


Birthday Boy

by StayBriizee



Series: The Pritchard Family [2]
Category: No Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Car Sex, Cheating, F/M, Face-Sitting, Food, Infidelity, Intercrural Sex, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Phone Calls & Telephones, Sex Tapes, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-09-21 09:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17041109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StayBriizee/pseuds/StayBriizee
Summary: On a lazy Sunday afternoon, you're met by an unexpected visitor, and faced with the reality of forgetting a very special day. How will you make up for it?





	1. Make You Wait

**Author's Note:**

> For more info on Abraham and the Pritchard family, check out my Pritchard Family series for a full description!

“Police reports tonight indicate a robbery—”

Click.

“I can’t help that I love y—”

Click.

“To the flour, add two tablespoons of—"

Click. Click.

“Christ will forgive, so long as you give in to him—”

The click of the television remote was constant in your hand. Head resting in the crook of your arm. Arm sinking into the couch. Couch hugging the contours of your body. Your body turned toward the TV, but with minimal attention. Nothing looked good. Nothing sounded good. Restless boredom was setting in quickly, the TV not being interesting, but nothing else as interesting or attainable as the TV. Sunday afternoons; the last day of comfort and relaxation before real work and errand-running begin. Today had been a churchless Sunday by choice; no heels or aching feet, no itchy stockings, and certainly no dresses. Only house clothes, a television, a blanket, and your couch. Nuzzling your head into your arm, you started into the television and listened, topically engaged, to the dronings of the televangelist on screen.

“So many people think that Christ won’t forgive. That once you’ve sinned, there’s no turning back. Maybe you didn’t go to church this Sunday.”

A pang of guilt rang throughout your chest.

“One mistake, and God will turn His back on you. But I’ve got somethin’ to say about that.”

Your thumb rubbed absently over the button for the next channel, but you listened more attentively than before.

“Our God is a forgiving God. Jesus Christ died for our sins. He died to cleanse us of our sins. So, confess those sins. Pray to Him. And so long as you give yourself to Him, and open your heart to accept His love and guidance… you will still make your way to Heaven. You will still see those pearly gates on judgement day.”

A tingle ran down your spine as you stretched and rubbed your tired eyes. The sun was on the cusp of setting outside, with darkening pinks and yellows breaking through patchy evening cloud cover. A blanket was draped over your body, soft and white, pulled up just beneath your chin. The cushions, the blanket, the couch pillows, all enveloped you in a lazy Sunday comfort. Minutes passed, gazing absently at the television, eyelids growing heavier and heavier as comfort turned to drowsiness, and drowsiness turned into yawns.

Turning your face away from the television, you stretched your back out against the couch cushions. You stared up at the ceiling, your fingers interwoven over your stomach, and closed your eyes. Your loose black skirt rode up toward your waist, leaving your thighs exposed beneath the warmth of your fleece blanket. Inhaling deeply, breathing out a seconds-long sigh, the sounds of the television began to fade away. In its place rose a sense of calm and quiet, your body on the precipice of succumbing to sleep. A resting of the eyes, a short nap, an hour or two to recuperate from a restless night before. Your body sank into the couch, growing more limp and relaxed. Slumping into the couch. Fading consciousness. Your head falling to the side. The sound of the television growing fainter and fainter… dissipating into unintelligible ambient noise—

A knock at the door sent your body into a sudden jerk, lurching forward with an intense pounding in your chest. Your hand slid over your heart automatically to quell the beating beneath your fingers, and your head fell back against the arm of the chair. Rubbing your eyes, you stood, pulled down your skirt, and adjusted your white tank top, which had become wrinkled and bunched up around your chest.

“Who is it?”

“An old friend, in more ways than one,” a familiar, deepened voice called back. “You know, your boss?”

Opening the door, you were met with the sight of Abraham, his wide frame bathed in blue, dusky light. A pinstriped, white, long-sleeved shirt wrapped around his upper body, brown trousers covered the length of his legs, and a black leather belt secured them at his waist. His face lit up with a gentle smile at the sight of you. His eyes lingered around the hem of your skirt for a fleeting second or two before you broke the silence.

“Mr. Pritchard,” you said, taken aback. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“Why,” Abe questioned, peering behind you to scan the interior of your home, “Am I interrupting anything?”

“Not at all, sir. What brings you here?”

“Well,” he started, “It ain’t a work thing or anything like that. I just noticed you weren’t at church today. I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

The mention of church made the words of the televangelist, still preaching and commanding on your television, more salient.

One mistake, and God will turn his back on you.

“I’m alright, Mr. Pritchard,” you said. “I appreciate your concern. I do. I’m not sick or anything. I guess my heart just wasn’t in it today.”

Abe smiled, putting his hands in his pockets and nodding.

“I see. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, sweetheart. You seem t’ be awful comfortable today anyways. I’m not used t’ seein’ you in those type’a clothes. Or any clothes at all.”

A warmth rose in your cheeks, and a chuckle escaped from your coy, pursed lips.

“I guess that’s true Mr. Pritchard. Is there anything else I can help you with, then?”

Abe licked his lips, leaving them wet and glistening as he stopped to collect his next words.

“Forgive me for bein’ bold, darlin’,” he said, “But I was wonderin’ if you might allow me to stay here. With you. For a day or two maybe.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes, and processing his request.

“May I ask why, sir?”

“Conjugal visit?”

The two of you shared a laugh, Abe’s teeth baring from his mouth, bright and white. He slicked his graying black hair behind his ear before he continued to explain.

“D’you remember that one time, a while back, when you babysat for me? The first time you did it since Diana had been gone. You said somethin’ t’ me. Somethin’ like, you thought maybe I might be lonely.”

“I remember.”

“I think maybe you might’a been right. I think maybe havin’ somebody t’ talk to would be nice.”

You thought his request over for a few moments more. He was good company, and you knew his company would feel better than watching television alone; that being said, there was an elephant in the room that it would be irresponsible not to address.

“What about the kids? And Diana?”

“They’re outta town for the week. You ain’t gotta worry about them. She and I, and the kids, were all at service this mornin’. I traded ‘em off t’ her then.”

You nodded, slowly. Before you could respond, however, Abraham continued.

“I’m sorry. I know this is a lot to ask all of a sudden like this, beautiful. I just thought I’d ask. I don’t want you t’ feel pressured or nothin’ like that. But if it means anything t’ you, it’d make a great little birthday present for me.”

Your head perked up as you stood in the doorway, your hand resting against your door frame. A sinking feeling settled in your chest and your mouth hung slightly ajar as the realization dawned on you; years working for Abraham, years working alongside him, his wife, and children, and you’d forgotten, as the sun was setting, that his birthday was tomorrow.

“I am so sorry Mr. Pritchard,” you started, your voice laden with guilt. “It completely slipped my mind.”

Abe smiled and straightened his back, his deep brown eyes glowing faintly in the fading sunlight.

“That’s alright, sweetheart. No hard feelin’s. I hardly mention it anyways. It’s not my birthday yet, y’know. But it’s never too early t’ celebrate, right?”

You step aside, out of the doorway, and motion your hand toward the inside of your home.

“Then feel free to come inside, Mr. Pritchard.”

“Thank you, ladybird. I packed a couple bags, though. I’ll see about bringin’ those inside first.”

“Would you like any help?” you offered. “You’re my guest, after all.”

“You’re a sweet young lady,” he said. “Very sweet. But who would I be if I let a pretty young lady like yourself carry bags for me?”

Abe turned away toward his truck, taking his hands from his pockets and opening the passenger side door. You watched as he removed two modestly sized duffel bags from the seat, slamming the door shut again with a familiar thud of aging metal. His keys jingled in his pocket as he walked back up toward your front porch, but before he stepped fully inside of your home, he paused.

“Are those th’ flowers I gave t’ you not too long ago?”

You followed his gaze toward the side of your house, where there was a row of flowers in all different colors. Reds, whites, yellows, pinks, and blues, from a collection of roses, tulips, carnations, and lilies. Over time, Abraham had expressed his appreciation through offerings of flowers, in bouquets and pots alike. A few weeks prior to now, he’d given you his newest assortment of potted flowers as a gift. You’d since planted them and tended to them, trying your best to keep them alive and healthy from how Abe had taught you.

“They are,” you responded. “Am I doing okay growing them so far?”

Abe set his bags down inside of your home, just by the front door, then descended the porch steps again to examine your plants. He knelt down, with know qualms about clean church trousers becoming stained with grass and dirt. Unbuttoning his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves, and pushing his gold watch further up his wrist, he grazed his fingertips over the soil in which the flowers were planted with a couple passes of his hand, then rubbed the dirt between his fingers more intensively, watching the dirt fall back to the ground.

“This soil’s a little dry. When’d you water ‘em last?”

“Yesterday,” you responded. “I was waiting on watering them today. I thought it might rain.”

Abe looked up at the sky, his fingers still rubbing in the dirt. The sky had darkened ever so slightly, and the cloud cover above was still patchy; dense and dark in some areas, sparse and blue in others. Abe’s eyes remained fixated on the clouds for several moments before he looked back down toward the dirt, feeling it again in his hands.

“Good girl. You don’t wanna overwater ‘em. But y’ also don’t wanna let ‘em go too long without some water. It won’t hurt t’ water ‘em a little bit, just in case it don’t rain soon. You got a waterin’ can around here somewhere, darlin?”

From your porch, you grab and carry a small, silver watering can into the house. It takes only several seconds to fill it at the kitchen sink before you’re back outside again, passing it off to Abe. His brush against your own, taking the can from your hand to hold it in his own.

“Thank you very much, sweetheart. Come kneel down next t’ me. I wanna teach you a little somethin’.”

As you kneel down next to him, his fingers wrap gently around your wrist. He guides your hand toward your potted flowers, toward the soil in which they were planted. His hand was soft and warm, covered in soil, resting on top of your own hand to guide your fingers.

You rake your fingers through the dirt, each grain rough against your fingertips. The soil fell through your fingers with ease, your hands remaining dry to the touch each time you rubbed the dirt against the skin of your palm. Abe pushes your fingers deeper into the soil, deeper towards the roots, inches below the soil. He held your hand in place and spoke.

“There. Now feel. How’s that soil feel t’ you?”

You moved your fingers back and forth beneath the surface; the soil still felt as loose as it had on top, and was still grainy against your fingertips.

“It’s pretty dry,” you said.

“And how d’you know that?”

“The way it feels. It’s grainy. My fingers don’t feel wet. It’s a little bit like sand.”

Abe smiled, pulling your hand away from the soil and tipping your watering can over the flowers. The water fell in streams over each petal and stem, dripping from the green and falling into the dirt below. The soil darkened as streams of water fell on its surface and disappeared, soaking down toward the roots below.

You watched Abe’s hands work. He moved back and forth; tipping the watering can, soaking the soil, stopping to feel it between his fingers. Trailing his fingers through the dirt, he took care to uncover and pick stray weeds and blades of grass along the way. With his own crops, his technique was rough; driving his hoes and shovels into the dirt, prying up old crops with force, yanking out unwanted weeds. But now, watching him tend to your own modest garden, he plucked each weed gently, tugging them just hard enough to remove them at the root, but not hard enough to disturb or break the roots of the flowers nearby. His hands were skilled and delicate, deliberate and gentle; a far cry from how you were used to watching him work on his own farm. He continued until he was content, his fingers glistening wet with water, then reached out to grip your wrist again.

“There. Feel it now.”

This time, with Abe’s fingers gliding over your own, the soil felt moist; not too wet, and not too dry. It wasn’t as gritty as before, but still not as wet as it could’ve been. The granules of dirt clumped between your fingers, even inches below the surface, and your hand was left with a film of water.

“Y’feel that?” Abe asked. “How it’s not too wet, not too dry? Just wet enough, right?”

Abe smirked at his own choice of words, but patiently awaited your reply.

“I do.”

“Good. That’s how you want it if you think it might rain. Just wet enough to hold ‘em over, but not so wet that they drown.”

After allowing you to feel the soil for a few moments longer, Abe removed his hand. He directed his attention toward a tall, white lily. He broke it at the stem, prying off a couple leaves, then placed the flower behind your ear. You looked into his eyes, a deep brown that rivaled the soil just next to the two of you, as he adjusted the flower to his liking.

“There,” he said, satisfied. “A beautiful flower for a beautiful young lady.”

Abe stood to dust the dirt off of his trousers, and you likewise stood, brushing dirt off of your exposed knees. Back inside of the house, the two of you washed your hands clean of dirt. As you dried them, there was a healthy silence between the two of you; standing by the kitchen counter, the rustling of kitchen towels, the TV still audible from the living room, this time, with a new preacher in front of his congregation.

“….wanted to talk about how to communicate with God. How to have a relationship, a connection, with God. Many people believe that you can pray any old way and God will listen. But you don’t just pray with your mouth. You pray with your heart. Your heart has to be true—”

Your head was turned toward the television screen, but was quickly turned back toward Abraham’s face. Before you could manage a reaction, his lips pressed into yours, his hands pulling your waist inwards towards his own. With one hand still squeezing your waist, the other snaked up your back and to your neck, cradling your head in his palm, his tongue lapping deeper into your mouth. With your hands gripped onto his sides, dense and muscular beneath his shirt, your lips tingled with the vibration of a growling moan from his mouth, wettened as he pulled your neck in closer for one last kiss.

As he pulled away for the last time, licking his lips, he stroked your lips with his thumb. He admired their shape, their plumpness, and the feel of them against his skin. He stared and ogled, his eyes fixated on your cupid’s bow, his thumb dragging the taste of him off of your lips.

“I’m truly sorry about that, ladybird,” he said. “I just couldn’t help myself. Not with how goddamn beautiful you look in that skirt.”

Your nose rubbed against his, just barely touching. He moved your hand up from his waist, pulling it up toward his chest, and held it in place. Feeling his heart beating beneath his shirt, taking in the gentle wisp of air from his nose that caressed your cheek, you smiled.

“No apology needed, Mr. Pritchard.”

He planted a kiss in the middle of your forehead, one hand cradling your neck, the other still cupping your hand to his chest. He adjusted the flower behind your ear, which had fallen forward in the heat of the kiss, and once he’d decided it was placed just right, lily petals perfectly centered on the side of your head, he turned his attention to the rest of your home.

Leaving the kitchen and stepping into the foyer, his eyes passed freely, scanning one room and then the next. He looked over the dining room, the staircase, the hall, and your living room, where your fleece blanket still laid in disarray. All the while, he pulled his white sleeves back down toward his wrist and began to unbutton his shirt.

“I didn’t realize you were livin’ so nice out here,” he joked. “Plenty’a pretty lights, nice things everywhere, the TV that’s got more channels than mine, I’m sure. I hope you’re not as spoiled as you are pretty.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Pritchard, most of the houses around here are like mine. Probably better. Aren’t there a couple three stories around here?”

Abe smiled, the last button on his shirt unfastened to reveal a tight white t-shirt underneath, and began to patrol your dining room.

“I suppose you got me there. Maybe it’s just me, then. I ain’t really used to all this new stuff. Decorations, indoor plants, lights that ain’t just lightbulbs. Like this fancy one here, over the table. What’s this called again?”

He pointed with his finger, and you followed his gaze upward. From your ceiling hung a crystalline chandelier with six branching lights. They’d been turned off for the day without being used, but as Abe flipped a light switch on the wall, each branching light illuminated, as did a central light from which the other six were centered. A toothy grin spread across his face, flipping the light switch on and off, watching the light glint off of each crystal to light up the room.

“The chandelier?”

“Chandelier,” he said, still gazing up at the lights. “I like that. Sounds fancy, if y’ask me. See? That don’t even sound like anything I’d have in my house. All I got is my tools and family pictures.”

“That’s not a bad thing, you know.”

“I guess not. But still. This is very pretty, ladybird.”

With a final look, Abe turned off the light and left the dining room to explore more of the house. Before stepping into your living room, his eyes were caught by a small table pushed against the wall. On it sat a lamp, and next to it, a polaroid camera which Abe took into his hands.

“Would you mind terribly if I took a couple pictures of you?”

“Why,” you teased. “Are you gonna keep the pictures?”

“Maybe. I think it’d be a nice thing to hold on to. For quite a few reasons.”

With a smile and a coy laugh, you posed for Abe, who was more than happy to snap photo after photo. Some close ups of your face, some only from the waist up, and some others full body, head to toe, in your flimsy black skirt. Some pictures were wholesome smiles, some others more suggestive; photos from the side to showcase your figure, lifting the hem of your skirt to expose your thighs, giving the camera a peek at your stomach beneath your shirt. With each photograph Abe took, he shook them in the open air, then placed them in the table drawer, leaving them be to develop. Once he was satisfied, with ten pictures lined up in two rows in your drawer, he set your camera gently back onto the table, taking care not to let it fall or thud.

“I certainly hope you let me have at least a few of those for the road,” he said. “I’m excited t’ see how those come out already.”

Despite his obvious excitement, Abraham was quick to direct his attention toward the next thing. On your coffee table, in your living room, lay another camera, bigger than the Polaroid. Abe lifted it with care into his hands, flipping and examining it for several seconds.

“What’s this one here?” he asked. “Another camera?”

“It’s a camcorder. The ones you put a little tape in it so you can record videos.”

He fumbled with the camera in his hands, flipping it over, examining the lens, pressing buttons, and looking into the viewfinder. His brows were furrowed and focused, despite not knowing quite what he was doing

“Right. I think I’ve seen this around. You think you could show me how t’ work it?”

With a gentle nod, you rustled through a nearby cabinet, pulling out a blank cassette tape for the camera. You showed Abe how to open it, what direction to put the tape in, and how to turn on the camera to start recording. After showing him some basic controls for zooming and stopping, he pointed the now-recording camera at you, looking through the viewfinder, a sly grin on his face.

“You look absolutely beautiful on here, ladybird,” he said. “I know I say that a lot. But it’s true. Why don’t you turn around for me a second?”

You spun on your heels to turn with your back facing him, and no sooner than your feet had settled back on the ground, you felt Abe’s hand caressing your hips. His fingers slid around your waist, then crept downwards toward your ass, and further down still toward your thigh. He lifted your skirt, pulling it up and out of the way to reveal your lacy pink underwear, and Abe laughed in surprise.

“Jesus, darlin,” he teased. “You sure you didn’t know I was stoppin’ by today? ‘Cause this is enough t’ make an old man cry.”

He slid his fingers inside of the hem of your underwear and tugged them back toward him. As your body bumped up against your own, you could feel him getting hard through his trousers. Bringing his hand back toward the front of your body, he pulled you in closer, grinding his hips into your backside, his length pressing deeper into your skin. He leaned down to hover his lips over your ear, his breath warm, his voice held in a low, steady whisper.

“You feel that, don’t you? I’m bettin’ you want that pretty bad.”

His lips kissed your back, dragging upwards toward your shoulders, and settling into the crook of your neck. Your hand massaged his trousers, stroking back and forth, squeezing at the base, and stroking with your thumb just beneath his head. He kissed up to your jaw and lingered in place, but released his one-handed grip on your waist in restraint.

“We c’n get t’ all that later. Make me wait for it.”

The camcorder clicked as Abe stopped recording, gently setting it back on the table where he’d found it.

“I should put that down before I break it anyways.”

Leading you by the hand, Abe walked over to and sat comfortably on your couch. You sat beside him, nuzzled close against his chest, his arm wrapped behind you, his hand stroking up and down your back. He picked up and adjusted your blanket to drape it over the length of your lower body, then turned his attention to your remote control. Before flipping through your channels, he stopped to the current entertainment.

“You like these TV evangelical types?”

A different man was shown now than the one you’d originally been watching, but the message rang the same as any other. “Love God…. Get into heaven… Repent…”

“Not really,” you replied. “It just caught my eye. You can change it, if you want.”

Abe did so without a second thought, changing channel after channel to find something worth watching. It took him only several seconds for him to offer a small bit of commentary.

“I can tell already you got channels than we got on the farm. Way more. You must be bored to tears every time you babysit.”

“I think I manage okay.”

“Maybe,” he said. “It’s no wonder you didn’t go t’ service today. At your age, I probably woulda picked this over church, too.”

After a minute or two of flipping through sitcoms, game shows, evangelists, and cooking shows, Abe stopped. The TV showed war scenes; men dawned in uniform, shown in black and white, guns in tow. Marching, shooting, killing, running, writhing on the ground. A narrator spoke over the videos and images, discussing the plight of the allies against the Third Reich. Abe watched in deep thought, his eyes glued to the television even when you looked up into his eyes, almost as if you were trying to see what he was thinking.

“Are war documentaries your thing?”

“No…” he said absently. A couple seconds later, he corrected himself.

“Well, I ain’t got nothin’ against ‘em. This just caught my eye, is all. I used t’ wanna be in the army, actually.”

“What happened?” you jeered. “Soldier to preacher to farmer are three very big jumps, Mr, Pritchard.”

“You’re tellin’ me. It wasn’t really a dream. I mean, I guess it was, but not a natural born one. My dad was in the army, and I really looked up t’ him. Wanted to be just like him, do what he was doin’. But he left the army eventually and turned to the church, then he raised me up that way. As you can see, that’s the dream that stuck.”

“What about your mom?” you asked. “What’d she want for you?”

“Oh, she loved the church thing. A very God-fearing woman. Always readin’ her bibles and quotin’ her scriptures, teachin’ ‘em to me. I guess I take after her a lot too, now that I talk about it out loud. She’d take me t’ church while my dad was out on duty, and we’d pray for him together. Pray for him t’ come back safe. I entertained it was a kid, I guess you could say. I didn’t mind it, but I wasn’t devoted to God yet. Not until later on.”

“Did she want you in the army?”

“Oh, God, no. No, no, no. She hated it. Hated just the thought of it. She was worried enough, I think. She was dead set on getting me into the church.”

Abe reached into his shirt, pulling out a gold chain. From it hung a simple gold cross.

“Y’know this cross I’m always wearin’? My mom gave it t’ me. It has a little story to it, if you don’t mind hearin’ it.”

You sat up from laying on his chest and straightened your back, giving him full audience.

“I’d love t’ hear it, Mr, Pritchard.”

“Alright. But when you get bored, remember you asked for it.”

You chuckled, and Abraham began his little story.

“Alright. Where do I start? Alright. When I was a little boy, with my dad goin’ on leave all the time, I worried about him a lot. ‘Course I did. He was my father, and I never knew whether or not he’d be comin’ home. I prayed with my mom a lot, and she gave me this cross when I was little so I always had somethin’ with me t’ pray on. But it just didn’t feel like enough sometimes. So I told my mom how I was feelin’. And she took me outside one night. It was clear and beautiful, and I looked up, and I could see all the stars. And my momma told me that all those stars up in the sky were little angels, and those angels could hear me every time I prayed. She said if I prayed outside with them, they’d listen, and I could know they were listenin’. So every night that my dad was gone, I’d go outside, look up at the stars, and just start prayin’ for him t’ come home safe. Saw shootin’ stars a couple of those nights. And y’know what? My daddy always came home just fine. So those stars meant a lot t’ me.

When I was in my teens, I was gettin’ a little more rebellious. I wanted t’ get a tattoo of a star, in honor of all those nights with all those little angels. My dad had a couple tattoos, anyway. But my momma couldn’t stand tattoos, and I knew she’d just kill me if I went and got it behind her back. So I left it alone for a long time. A very long time. I even strayed from the church around my teen years, an’ my early 20s. Crisis of character, I s’pose. But then I met Diana, and we had Jackson. Diana was a very churchy girl, and I wanted t’ keep her. I got heavily back into the church, goin’ every Sunday, tryin’ t’ be a preacher. Then the tattoo thought came up again. I wanted the star, but I wanted a cross, too. But neither one felt quite right. So, I told Diana what I was thinkin’, and she said, “well, a tattoo might be fine, but why not get the cross engraved?” So…”

Abe flipped the cross over and motioned for you to look closer. On the back of the cross, right in the center of its intersection, was a five-point star, etched deeply into the gold.

“There it is,” he said. “My little angel. I hope I didn’t bore you too much.”

“Not at all, Mr. Pritchard. It was a very beautiful story.

Abe let you hold the cross for yourself, holding it and turning it over in your hands, rubbing your thumb over the star. You could see all the scuffs that gave away its age, but it was otherwise in better shape than you expected a decades old necklace to be. The sound of war, shooting and scuffling and cries of pain, still continued in the background, which prompted you to ask a question.

“Have either of the boys ever asked about being in the army?”

“No, never. They know about it, of course. Know about what soldiers do an’ all that. But they haven’t shown any interest. Noah barely wants to step foot in a church, let alone in a trench.”

“Of course not,” you said. “Noah’s always been a little free spirit.”

“I guess you’re right about that. I think he takes after his mom that way.”

Abe continued to peruse channels, stopping several seconds on each channel to take in what he saw. Your hand rose and fell with his chest, and your fingers tingled with each beat of his heart. His hand still steadily stroked your side and upper thigh, caressing and squeezing in the touchy way you’d come to expect from Abraham. Soon, however, you realized it was his left hand stroking your body; and quickly after that, noticed the absence of something familiar. Glancing back at his hand at his hand on your thigh confirmed your suspicion, and you’d decided to inquire about it.

“Mr. Pritchard?”

“Mm-hmm?”, was his placid response, eyes still fixated on the television.

“You took off your wedding ring?”

Abe tore his eyes from he TV to glance at you, then at his own hand. Breathing heavily out of his nose, he spoke.

“Yeah. I did.”

“When?”

“Right before I decided t’ come here. I wore it to church, an’ out in town while I was visitin’ people. But I took it off t’ see you.”

“Why—"

“What does it matter, ladybird?”

His snappy response was somewhat startling, and encouraged you to drop the issue.

“You’re right. I didn’t mean to pry. I’m sorry.”

Abe rubbed his forehead with his fingers, his eyes squeezed shut. His conflict was palpable and written all over his face, but you decided to say nothing more until he was ready to talk.

“No, ladybird, it’s alright,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t’ve snapped at you like that. You deserve t’ know. It’s just I didn’t think about it much myself. I’m not sure what t’ say.”

There was a silent pause that you decided again not to break, allowing Abraham time and space to collect his words.

“I still care about Diana. I do. She’s my wife. But there’s no point in pretendin’ like we’re not in trouble. We’re goin’ through a hard time. Not even sleepin’ in the same house anymore. And I hope you don’t think you’re the reason D and I split. We were havin’ problems way before we started this thing. She’d already moved out the first time we had sex.”

As he spoke, you knew what he said was true; but that didn’t erase the guilt that had haunted you on and off for weeks.

“I think D and I woulda needed a break regardless. I don’t want you t’ feel like you ruined a marriage, or anything like that. I’m makin’ my own choices. You’re just makin’ a tough time better for me. Much better.”

His hand grazed over your panties and squeezed, and with a sly bite of his lip, he continued.

“Anyway, that’s not the point. I guess I’m tryin’ t’ say I think wearin’ the ring when we’re doin’… this thing we’re doin’, makes me feel like I’m holdin’ on t’ somethin’ that just ain’t there right now. I think me an’ Diana can work it out one day. I hope we can. But if we can’t…”

He stopped to clear his throat, and hesitated on his next few words.

“I just think it’s better t’ be honest about what’s happenin’ right now. Honest t’ you, and honest t’ myself. I hope that makes sense.”

Something came over you then. It felt beyond your control. But looking into Abe’s eyes, their deep woody brown, and down toward his reddened nose and rosy lips, you found yourself wrapping your hand behind his neck and pulling him in. His lips felt warm, and his tongue was warmer, pushing into your mouth. He brought his hand up to caress the back of your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek, just above your jaw line. Each kiss was slow and lingering, your lips pressing still against his to pause and catch your breath. On the last kiss, your lips stayed just a hair’s breath from his. When you open your eyes, Abe eyes are already fixated on your eyes and lips. When he notices that your eyes are open, he meets your gaze and he smiles, brown eyes shining.

“See?” he whispered, his voice low and rumbling in his throat, “You just made my whole day.”

You smile and purse your lips. Abe leaned in closer, his nose rubbing softly against yours as he teased your lips for another kiss. Within seconds, the two of you were back to kissing, back to pulling each other in. You tugged on Abe’s unbuttoned white dress shirt, and his hand slid up your skirt to caress your thigh. Before long, you swung one leg over his lap to straddle him. Both of his hands began to explore eagerly up and down your body. Squeezing your breasts over your shirt, working his hand beneath your shirt to stroke your belly button. His hands wrapped around your back, tracing up the dip of your spine, then gliding back down toward your skirt. He tugged it up and out of the way without breaking the kiss, his tongue still steadily lapping inside of your mouth, and gripped either side of your ass. Your body jolted at his touch, firm and sudden, and you felt him buck his hips up to feel the warmth between your legs. Meanwhile, your hands stroked through and tugged on his graying hair, his goatee scratching against your lips and chin with each deep, passionate kiss. Your thumb stroked against two small moles on his cheek as you kissed. His fingers hesitated for a small while, but soon rubbed the outside of your wettened lace panties, with long strokes up and down, forward and back, from your asshole, down your taint, and further still between the lips of your pussy. You could feel Abe getting harder as you straddled his lap, and heard the attraction in his voice each time he moaned through a kiss. His middle finger grew slicker and wetter, and his appetite for you fiercer with his unrestrained moans. As he paused the kiss to trail kisses down the length of your neck, you took the opportunity to pull away. Noticing your resistance, Abe’s lips pulled away from your neck, and he looked up at you, his hands gripping tightly onto the backs of your thighs.

“Sorry. Did I come on too strong or somethin’?”

“No. Not at all. I just remember you said you wanted me to make you wait for it.”

Abe took pause for a couple seconds, without breaking eye contact. A wide, toothy grin soon replaced his blank expression.

“You’re right about that, darlin,” he joked. “So. Are you gonna make me wait for it?”

Without averting his eyes, he slid his hand between your legs. He stroked between your lips and rubbed his thumb over your clit, all with his hand still over your panties. He bit his lip, feeling your body heat, feeling his fingers coated in wetness, and watching your face as you squirmed at his touch. Sliding your hand between your own legs and pulling his hand away, you replied.

“I’m gonna make you wait for it.”

Abe smiled and raised his eyebrows, surprised bout charmed at your conviction.

“Is that so, ladybird?”

“Yes, sir.”

Bringing his hand to his mouth, Abe licked the taste of you off of his fingers. A smirk remained on his face as he sucked the length of his finger, then licked between each space until nothing was left. His free hand moved down towards his trousers, gripping his own length, stroking back and forth as he savored your wetness on his tongue.

“Alright, ladybird. I like a girl in charge. Just let me know when you’re ready t’ let me have it.”

~

The rest of the afternoon transitioned into evening on the couch, cuddled into Abe, your head laying on his chest. He took control of the remote, still in relative awe at the variety, commenting every now and again to inquire about what’s, who’s, and why’s. With nightfall approaching just outside your windows, you sat up and stretched. Abe had taken off his dress shirt but left on his gold watch, and looked up at you as you rubbed your eyes.

“You tired, ladybird?”

“Not tired,” you said through a stretch, “Just getting hungry. Would you like something to eat?”

You followed Abe’s eyes as they glanced down toward your thighs, between your legs.

“Oh, I could eat,” he said, without looking up, “And the house special looks real fresh t’night.”

With a subtle roll of your eyes, you stood and walked toward the kitchen, but before you could make much headway, Abe’s hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back.

“Okay, don’t get slick, now.”

His voice was more stern than it had been all day.

“Tell you what. I c’n cook dinner for us t’night. You got all day tomorrow t’ treat me to whatever I want. The least I can do is treat you t’night.”

Without more talk, Abe stood and walked freely into the kitchen, familiarizing himself with your fridge, freezer, and panty. He settled on cooking smothered pork chops, mashed potatoes, and corn, which he went to work on with ease. Seasoning the pork, peeling potatoes, mashing them by hand, and shucking corn. More delighted was he to know that the potatoes had come from his own farm, which imbued him with a sense of pride as he finished cooking the meal.

As he stood at the stove, putting finishing touches on a pot of mashed potatoes, you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. After an initial reflexive tensing of his muscles, he relaxed and smiles, stirring with one hand and cupping your wrist with the other.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he said, “Is this your way of tellin’ me I’m takin’ too long?”

You kissed his back through his shirt and rubbed the palms of your hands over his stomach. His muscles felt solid beneath his shirt, and you happily allowed your fingertips to travel as you responded.

“Not at all. Just checking in.”

Abe laughed, the vibrations of which you could feel in your hands with the jerky rising and falling of his stomach. He turned off each eye of the stove and turned around again adjusting the flower in your hair that had again become crooked.

“Why, aren’t you cute?” he said. “Well now that you’re all checked in, why don’t you head t’ the table, under that big pretty chandelier? I’ll bring out plates for both of us.”

He left a kiss on your forehead and turned you around, rubbing your shoulders with his hands and kissing the side of your neck. No sooner than you could take a step did you feel his hand smacking into your backside, beneath your skirt, sending a loud smack through the kitchen. When you turned back to look at him, he winked, and turned back to the stove.

“Go’on t’ the table an’ have a seat.”, he said. “Unless you plan on lettin’ me unwrap my present early.”

~

Dinner went on and was over with relatively quickly, and was followed by a round of dish cleaning. With a glass of bourbon in his system, Abe washed, you dried and put away. As the night went on, Abe grew more and more playful; from snarky innuendos at the table, to flinging water in your direction and putting suds on your nose. He smiled, laughed, and joked to his heart’s content, scrubbing and rinsing each pot, pan, and plate until the deed was done. Drying the last dish and stacking it in the cabinet, you glanced up at Abe, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, a smirk spread across his face.

“So,” he started, “What’s next on the menu tonight? Am I gettin’ any dessert?”

You wiped the counter dry of water and soap with the kitchen towel that was still in your hand.

“I need to shower first, you know.”

“Alright. Good. Me, too. I c’n join you.”

You turned to ascend the stairs, and after grabbing his bags from the floor, Abe followed behind. As you opened your bedroom door, Abe took in your room’s size and colors; the walls were clean and white, with flower vases posing as the majority of the decoration. It was a far cry from Abraham’s home, which was notoriously dark and cluttered, and where religious paraphernalia covered nearly every inch of wall space. Setting his bags down, Abe took no time taking off his shirt and beginning to unbuckle his belt. You followed suit, pulling your tank top up and over your head, and pulling your skirt down to the floor. The two of you exchanged words without speaking, keeping an eye on each other as each article of clothing continued to come off. A shy smile as you unclasped your bra, a chuckle as he pulled his trousers down to the floor. Pursed lips as you pulled your panties down toward your ankles, and licking his own lips as his boxers hit the ground. With both of you fully undressed, and Abe’s bare body just in front of you, it was clear that he was already close to hard. You tried not to stare, but looked down at his cock, then back up to his face, which eagerly awaited your commentary.

“I’m still making you wait.”

“That’s alright,” he said. “But I won’t apologize for all the things I wish I could do t’ you.”

You turned way and walked into your bathroom, which was attached to your bedroom by a door on the far wall. You stepped into the tub first, turning each handle and testing the water with your hand, as Abe got his look of the place.

“Bathroom attached t’ your bedroom, huh?” he said. “You really are the fancy type.”

Satisfied with the heat of the water, you stood, pulling Abe in by the wrist.

“Not fancy. I just like convenience.”

Turning on the shower head, there was a slight pause before your chest was beaten with hot streams of water, with water quickly dripping down the length of your stomach and legs. You turned to let the water reach every inch of your body, down the length of your arms and every curve of your ass and hips, and splashed some warm water on your face. Sufficiently soaked, you traded places with Abraham to stand behind him, letting him have his own turn.

As his body began to get drenched, wet and glistening, you took note of every drop of water that rolled down his back. Each muscle in his shoulder blade, and the dip of his spine, all collecting and dropping water down the length of his back, and into the drain. Between hundreds of little water droplets, you could see a collection of dark brown moles, each one a different size, all spotted around different places on his back. You rubbed your hands up and down his back, allowing your palms to feel his smooth, slick skin, as well as barely noticeable imperfections wherever a larger mole was. As Abe ran his fingers through his hair, soaking it in the shower head, your hands stroked down his sides. On his right side were two more small moles, one stacked on top of the other. You teased your fingers over both of them, and Abe paused for only a moment at the sensation of your touch, before he turned back to washing himself. Rubbing turned to kissing, your lips pressing into as many tiny moles and imperfections as you could find. You couldn’t see Abe’s face, but you heard him chuckle after every few kisses, thoroughly amused by the gesture.

With a washcloth in hand, you stood still behind Abe, and squirted a generous helping of body wash onto the cloth. Once it had a full, soft lather, you rubbed the cloth over Abe’s back. Starting at the shoulder blades, you worked down toward the middle of his back, and further down still toward his tail bone. Then, wrapping your arms around the front of him, you scrubbed his stomach, feeling the fine hairs that covered his just above his waist and around his belly button. The same process followed for his arms, then his thighs, wide and muscular, further still to his calves, and then back up to his ass, until you got to the last spot left.

With the rest of his body sufficiently lathered, you set the washcloth aside on your soap dish, and lather the remaining soap on your hands. Reaching around front, you stroke the length of his cock, and can immediately hear a low rumble of relief and satisfaction from Abe. Your pace was slow and gentle, and you stroked only a few times before moving to his balls, giving them the same slow, gentle massage. His hard-on was full and apparent, but you only teased. You only worked your hands for several moments more before you stopped.

“It’s my turn.”

Abe sighed, allowing he shower head to rinse the soap from his body, back and front, before he replied.

“Alright, ladybird. I can play that game, too.”

With a second wettened washcloth, Abe repeated after you. Generous helping of body wash, a rich lather, and his hands exploring the back and front of your body. His hands first rubbed over your breast, leaving a white, sudsy residue over both of them. He rubbed his fingertips over your nipples, and leaned down to kiss your neck, sending a chill up your spine and a tingling in your chest, which left your nipples hard and perky. He worked the cloth over your arms, then over your stomach, down the length of your legs. With the majority of your body lathered up, Abe set the washcloth aside, and allowed his hands to work.

His soapy hands caressed your upper thighs from the back and squeezed. He slid his fingers in the crack of your ass, his middle finger rubbing against your ass and taint. His strokes were slow, and he teased his fingertips at your entrance, pushing gently as if to slide a finger inside. But he resisted, continuing to rub between your cheeks and press his cheeks against you until his attention turned to the next spot.

His hands traveled toward the front of your body, stopping for only a moment at your breasts before dropping down between your legs. He rubbed the front of your pussy with your hand to build up a lather, then slipped his fingers deeper between your legs, working the suds around your lips. The water beating down on both of you, and the slipperiness of the suds hid the fact that you were wet, but somehow, you felt, Abe could still tell that you wanted him. His fingertip began to focus more and more on your clit, as he gauged your reaction. You moaned at his touch, and he moaned to the sound of you moaning, enjoying him, taking him in. Writhing and grinding against his wet body, feeling his stomach hairs graze against your back, he picked up his pace only slightly, massaging your clit, back and forth, in circles, and getting off on the feeling of you squirming beneath his arms.

Just before you could cum, Abe stopped. You gasped at the sudden stop of movement, and pulled his hand back down toward your pussy to get him to continue.

“Don’t stop, please, Mr. Pritchard,” you pleaded. “Please keep going.”

Regardless, Abe pulled his hand away still, and pushed down on your back for you to bend over.

“I know,” he said. “But remember what you said? Gotta make me wait for it.”

With the feeling of his head near the backs of your thighs, you were ready to feel him push into you. Instead, however, you felt his cock push between your thighs as you held your legs together, and with Abe’s hand holding and pulling your hips into place. He bucked his hips back and forth, His lock squeezed between your thighs. His head poked out from between your legs with each forward thrust, and his shaft stroking back and forth against your clit. He continued to thrust, warm water beating down on both of you continuously, where the sound of wet bodies slapping into one another mixed in with interspersed moans and pressurized streams of water. As his cock continued to stroke between your thighs, the sensation of his shaft and head rubbing against your clit grew more and more intense. Your lower body felt warm, your legs began to tingle, and your toes began to curl as you remained bent over, allowing Abe to control the speed and pace.

Your moans grew louder, and Abe’s thrusts grew faster, until you couldn’t contain yourself any longer; a strong pulse rippled throughout your body and around your clit, and the space between your legs grew warmer and wetter with your own cum beginning to drip between your legs. Abe’s own moans began to grow, his shaft stroking between the lips of your pussy, and now coated and glistening, sticky and wet. His fingertips squeezed close to the bone against your hips as his moans became strained, closer and closer to climax. You listened to him curse, swearing to god and saying your name like it was gospel, until, with one last, room-filling moan, he reached release. Pulses of cum shot out of his cock and onto the floor of the tub, and as they weakened, they shot just far enough to settle on and drip down your thighs. Once Abe’s orgasm was through, you looked down between your legs to see streams of cum being washed away as they traveled the length of your leg, down into the drain. Before the last drops could disappear, you wiped them from your thigh, and then from the tip of Abraham’s cock, which still poked out from between your legs. You wiped his cum onto your tongue, smooth and creamy, and once you were thoroughly rinsed, turned off the shower.

Back inside of your bedroom, and now with both of you having towels in hand, you dried off. As Abe dried off his hair, he restarted conversation.

“Thank you for lettin’ me do that, beautiful. I really needed it. We didn’t have sex, technically. You still get t’ make me wait.”

As you finished drying off, you responded.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“May I ask another favor, then?”

“Depends on the favor.”

After patting his towel against his head a couple more times, he wrapped and tied it around his waist. Parts of his body and face were both rosy and pink, particularly around the nose and lips. With only a towel on, his entire upper half was exposed, showing every small bump and mole along his arms and stomach, including the two on his side which you’d noticed in the shower. The towel knot settled just below his belly button, covering only some of his stomach hair, and a slight bulge was still visible between his legs. He glanced over at your dresser drawer, opened it the top drawer, and was met with the site of every clean pair of bra and panty you had.

“It’s not nice to go through someone’s stuff without permission.”

“You’re probably right,” he said, rummaging through the drawer. He lifted up a black, silk thong, held it up to his nose, and inhaled. “But I want my first little birthday present t’ be pickin’ out what you wear t’ bed. Smellin’ these don’t feel the same when it’s straight out of the drawer, by the way.”

“Because they don’t smell like me yet.”

“Then I know what I want tomorrow morning.”

Abe continued to rummage through your drawer, picking up and examining several pairs before settling on one for you to wear to bed. It was a lacy white thong, with a small bow in the front. He tossed it to you, and then, still in his white towel, turned his attention to your closet.

Flipping through hangers of clothes in your closet took considerably less time, with his eyes immediately drawn toward a silky white nightgown. The top and bottom were both lined with white lace, similar to those on the panties he’d given you to wear. He slid it off the hanger and tossed it to you, as well.

“There. Those’ll be just perfect.”

As you slipped on your panties, Abe dropped his towel and rummaged through one of the bags he’d brought along. From it, he pulled out a pair of dark blue boxers, which he pulled up and around his waist in little time. As you put on your nightgown, Abe cleaned up the room, putting the towels and old clothes of the day into the laundry basket in your bathroom. He dropped his own clothes into the hamper, but stopped with yours. You watched silently as he brought your tank top, skirt, bra, and panties, all in a bundle up to his nose, and inhaled. He licked his lips and took another deep inhale, then dropped the clothes into the basket and turned off the bathroom light.

“Don’t lookit me like that, ladybird,” he scoffed. “I like what I like. Now go’on an’ lay in bed. I’ll turn off the light.”

You heeded his command and crawled into your bed as he walked back towards your bedroom door. He switched off the light switch and followed behind you, his body pressed up against your back. He rests his head on your pillow and exhales, the tickle of which you can feel against your neck. There was a slight scent of bourbon on his breath from behind you, which mixed with the smell of fresh body wash, toothpaste, and cologne. The warm rise and fall of his stomach against his back was soothing and slow, and his legs fit perfectly behind yours. With one hand curled beneath you and the other cupping your breast, he plants a gentle kiss on the back of your shoulder. His lips lingered in place, his goatee prickly against your skin, his hair just barely damp and falling in strands around his face, and your back. His thumb stroked against your breast as he pulled you in closer towards him one last time, before both of you drifted off to sleep.


	2. Morning Glory

Morning came faster than your mind could grip onto it. Your waking hours had been a complete blur up to now. You hardly remembered opening your eyes and rolling out of bed, and you hadn’t yet had a chance to cook breakfast. “It’s my birthday, remember?” he’d said. “You’re gonna be my breakfast this mornin’.”

You laid with your back against the couch, allowing the weight of Abe’s body to bear down against your chest. His tongue swirled up the length of your neck, his hands hungrily squeezing your breasts. As his body rocked back and forth against your own, you could feel that he was hard, his cock barely contained in the dark blue boxers he’d worn last night. Sliding a hand up his shirt, you felt the rising and falling of his belly and chest with each quickened, anxious breath he took.

You tilted your head backward, eyes closed for you to enjoy the sensation of his warm, wet tongue. He trailed wet kisses up from your collarbone to your throat, his goatee scratching against your skin. With a last kiss just in the middle of your neck, he lifted his head to look at your face.

“C’mon now, ladybird. Don’t be shy. Show me those beautiful eyes.”

You lifted your eyelids. All you could see was Abe’s face, his lips curled into a grin at the sight of your open eyes. He licked his lips and stared for a while, at your lips, your eyes, your nose. Looking up at him, his brown eyes and long lashes were in full view. Your fingers stroked through his thick, dark bed hair, which was messy and falling in strands around his face. Your eyes were drawn to each gray strand, littered randomly on the top of his head, standing in stark contrast to the rest of his hair. As you stroked the graying strands with your fingertips, Abe noticed your sudden focus. He stroked his thumb against your cheek, which was flush and warm, then began to play with your hair.

“What’s got you so focused up there?” he teased. “I know I’m grayin’. I hope I ain’t gettin’ any bald spots, too.”

“Sorry. You just have nice hair. That’s all.”

“I see. I’m flattered. Just don’t look too close. The more gray you see, the more you’re gonna realize what an old dog I am.”

You raked your fingers through his hair, and began to massage the back of his scalp. He chuckled and bucked his hips between your legs, lifting them up onto his shoulders. Pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor, he paused to rub your panties with his fingers. His thumb stroked over your clit, then between your lips, and back up again. His other hand squeezed and stroked down the length of his cock. Beginning to soak through your panties, Abe’s thumb and fingers began to glisten with your wetness. He licked his fingers and moaned with satisfaction as the taste of you hit his tongue, then replaced his fingers between your legs.

“That sweet little pussy of yours is truly somethin’ special, ladybird. I hope you’re ready for me t’ stretch it out a little. Or a lot.”

“What makes you so sure you’re gonna stretch me out, big man?”

“I think you’ve had me enough to know exactly what I mean, babydoll,” he said, stroking the backs of your thighs. “’Big man’ by the way? I like that. It’s fittin’.”

Reaching your hand between your legs, you stroked his length inside of his boxers. You began to grind your hips up and down, back and forth, allowing the wetness of your panties to soak through his boxers. He pulled your hips in closer and watched, sighing and moaning in anticipation.

“Alright,” he said reaching into his boxers, “I think you made me wait for it long enough. I’m tired of waitin’. How about you give daddy his birthday present?”

Just before Abe could pull out his cock, a knock at the door startled you both. Abe rolled his eyes and groaned, and you rested your hands against his bare stomach as you called out.

“Who is it?”

The voice behind the door called out.

“It’s Diana.”

You felt an immediate lump in the pit of your stomach. A sickness. You stared up at Abe, who was glaring at the door. He shook his head and reached down onto the floor for his bathrobe, which he’d long since taken off, putting it on and tying it at his waist. As he stood, you scrambled to reach for your own robe to cover yourself.

“I can answer the door, if you’d like.”

“No,” he replied plainly. “I got it.”

You just barely put on your robe and closed it before Abe had opened the door. Sure enough, there stood Diana. You couldn’t see the kids from your point of view, but weren’t quick to stand or get closer, either.

“Hey, D,” he started. “Good mornin’.”

“Good mornin’, Abraham,” Diana said. “I went back to the house to wish you a happy birthday. Realized you weren’t there, but noticed your truck here.”

Abe peered out of his door toward his truck, which was backed into your driveway, the front of it facing out toward the street.

“Right.”

There was a pause. Diana’s hand scanned Abraham’s body, as if to process why, or how, he was in a bathrobe at someone else’s home at this time of morning. Abe’s face didn’t register any guilt, worry, or shame.

“So,” he said. “Are you gonna wish me happy birthday? Sing for me, maybe. I think I might like that.”

“Happy birthday, Abraham. From me, and the kids.”

“Thank you, D. I appreciate that. Was there anything else?”

There was another bout of silence, with Diana not speaking, and Abraham not walking away. You felt Abe’s impatience growing the longer they stood, somehow knowing what Diana wanted to ask, but was too afraid or disgusted to.

“I am fuckin’ her, you know,” Abe interrupted. “The babysitter. It’s been happenin’ for a while. I can tell you wanted to ask. And I’m a little tired of the lyin’ and sneakin’ around. So yes. You came here, you caught me in a bathrobe ‘cause I stayed the night, and I stayed the night ‘cause I’ve been sleepin’ with her, D. You just caught us in the middle of somethin’ actually.”

Your heart had already dropped with his first few words. There was an unintelligible sense of fear, horror, anger, shock, and guilt surging through your mind and body. You were shaking and frozen in place, staring at the door, staring at Abraham, staring at Diana’s contorted and disgusted face. Her hand extended through the doorway, and the sound of her palm slapping his cheek filled the room.

“You’re a god forsaken pig, Abraham!” The words were loud and piercing. “I knew you were no good. The way you treat me. The way you treat the kids. Especially poor Noah. Nothin’ he does is ever good enough for you. I can’t believe I ever wasted my time lovin’ you.”

Abe’s head remained turned to the side from the slap for a short while before he turned back to face Diana. He cleared his throat and clenched his jaw, clearly upset, but spoke as calmly as he could manage.

“I do love you, D. I truly do. But I have needs. And I needed t’ fulfill ‘em. I felt young again. I feel young again. We try all the things I know you’d never let me try with you. It’s like livin’ a whole new life, where new things keep happenin’ every day. D’you have any idea how addictin’ that is?”

“We’re married, Abraham. And you’re supposed t’ be a man of God.”

“Gimme a damn break, Diana. I love God as much as anyone. But that doesn’t mean I’ve gotta deprive myself for two decades just ‘cause you’re too scared t’ do anything but the bare minimum.”

Abe turned his head and saw you watching, stock still. He motioned his finger for you to step closer.

“C’mere. You’re a part’a this too. I think it’s best we all had a talk.”

Each step you took towards the door was laborious. Nearly painful. The twisting in your gut intensified as Diana’s face came closer and closer into view. You couldn’t exactly place her expression; it was somewhere between anger and sadness, but it made you nervous and set you on edge all the same. Abe pulled you in front of him so that you were face to face with Diana in the doorway. Your heart was pounding, and you could hardly breathe or stand to look at her. You knew you’d run if you could’ve.

“Did he force himself on you?”

The question caught you off guard, and you couldn’t answer before she elaborated.

“You’re young and pretty. I’ve seen the way he looks at you around the house. Did he make you do this?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. You stuttered and stammered around the tightness in your neck until Abraham cut in.

“Force myself? I cannot believe you think that low of me, Diana. But I can show you right now. There ain’t a bit of force between her and I. I don’t need it.”

You weren’t able to speak your piece before you felt Abe’s body pressing into your back. His hand snaked forward toward your panty line, his fingers slid eagerly between your lips, and his tongue lapped at the crook of your neck. With his free hand, he held your chin in place, keeping your gaze pointed straight forward at Diana. The guilt and shame in your gut rose into your throat. Her husband’s hands and mouth caressing your body, exposing the intimate rendezvous you’d shared behind her back. You felt as if you were watching yourself outside of your own body. You wished you were. But as the agonizing minutes passed, every lie you’d told coming to the light, all you could bear to do was close your eyes pray to any God who was listening that this would turn out better than you knew it would.

“Lookit her, babydoll,” Abe whispered into you ear. “Get a good, long look. Look at what you made me leave.”

Your body was cloaked in a stuffy, sweaty warmth. With your eyes still closed, the sensation of Abe’s touch between your legs intensified. You could almost hear your own wetness between your fingers. As you opened your eyes, your body lurched slightly forward, and your heart thumped rapidly in your chest. You saw your room. Your bathroom door. Your closet. Your dresser drawer. Your bed. You closed your eyes and exhaled, rubbing your eyes and laying back down on your pillows.

As you laid back down it took you several drowsy seconds to realize what was happening. Abe was no longer beside you, but beneath your bed sheets and between your legs was a large lump. You peeled back the covers to be met with the top of Abe’s head between your legs. His fingers pulled your white lace panties to the side to lick between your lips. He trailed up toward your clit every so often, but focused mainly on your wetness and taste. Feeling the bedsheets lifting, he placed a kiss where his tongue had been and lifted his tongue to look at you.

“Good mornin, ladybird,” he said. “Sorry for disturbin’ your sleep. I just couldn’t wait for my present anymore. I hope you don’t mind.”

You nuzzled your head deeper into your pillow, and sighed deeply.

“I don’t mind. It’s relaxing.”

“What’s got you so worked up that you need relaxin’? Bad dream?”

“You could say that.”

“D’you wanna talk about it? I c’n listen an’ eat at the same time.”

“No,” you said, rubbing your eyes. “That’s okay. Keep doing what you were doing.”

He followed your direction without further question. His tongue worked slowly, feeling every inch of wetness between your legs, exploring each fold. You heard him moan to himself every now and again, the vibrations giving you chills. He teased around your clit, several times, licking around it in circles for a few fleeting moments, before returning between your folds to coat his tongue in the taste of you. His goatee and stubble tickled against your thighs, but only then, in the near silence of him pleasuring you beneath your bedsheets, did you realize it was raining.

Rain was beating against your roof and windows in a not-torrential but steady and heavy rhythm. You turned your head toward your bedroom window to see that it was dim and overcast outside. The clouds were light gray, and droplets of water streaked down your window. The sound of rain was soothing and welcome after the dream that woke you, and watching the drops of rain fall outside was as mesmerizing as it was beautiful. A flash of light and low rumble of thunder filled the room as the trees within your view gave way to a firm gust of wind.

The feeling of Abe’s tongue and lips sucking and licking around your clit pulled you out of your trance. You moaned softly and gripped a handful of your bedsheets, with an involuntary arch in your back delighting Abe. He lifted his head, a small string of his spit and your wetness connecting from his lips to yours.

“Looks like you were right about that rain yesterday, ladybird,” he said. “Clever girl.”

“You agreed with me,” you replied. “So clever man.”

Rubbing two fingers two fingers from top to bottom, from your clit down towards your taint, he spoke up again.

“May I ask you somethin’, doll?”

Hearing that name from his mouth sent a pang of anxiety through your chest. You thought back to your dream. To Diana’s face. To Abraham’s apathy. Even pride. You hadn’t realized how long you hadn’t responded until Abe raised his voice slightly.

“Doll?”

“Sorry, Mr. Pritchard,” you said, shaking your head. “I was thinking about something.”

“Are you sure you’re alright, ladybird? If I’m doin’ anything wrong, you c’n tell me. Is it that dream again?”

You paused.

“No. It’s nothing to worry about, really. I don’t wanna kill the mood on your birthday.”

“I also don’t take t’ people lyin’ on my birthday,” he said. He sat up and crawled up toward the head of the bed, laying down so that his face was next to yours. His hand remained between your legs, however, stroking slowly as he spoke.

“So go’on,” he continued. “Tell me about that dream.”

You stared up at the ceiling, trying to find the words to use to tell him about your dream. You wanted to sugar coat it, let it down as gently as possible. But that was useless. And impossible. And he’d be able to sniff out a lie. You took a deep breath.

“I dreamed that Diana—sorry, Mrs. Pritchard. I dreamed that she caught us.”

Abe’s fingers paused their stroking between your legs at her name. You kept your eyes fixated on the ceiling, but could feel Abe staring at you. You told the rest of the story; how it started, what he said to Diana, and even mentioned how he’d called you babydoll and you’d called him big man. You told him about the way he made you look Diana in the eyes. You were scared to look in his direction, but turned your head anyway. To your surprise, he was smirking, and he continued to rub his fingers between your legs.

“You’re smiling.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Why not? I think it’s sorta funny.”

“Funny how? You know how bad it would be if someone found out about us.”

Abe chuckled now, his tall white teeth fully exposed.

“I’m well aware of that,” he said through a laugh. “It’d be a real mess. I just think it’s cute how worked up you get about it.”

“It’s not a bad thing to be worried about.”

“You’re right. It’s just a little silly to worry about, and I’ll tell you why. We could stop all this right now. I could put on my clothes, wash up, and leave. I could go back t’ focusin’ on D and the kids, and you go back t’ workin’ for me. Strictly business. Maybe quit if you feel that bad about it. We could nip it in the bud right now. No one would know. Are you goin’ to?”

“I should.”

“But will you?”

The same twisting and sinking in your gut that you’d felt in your dream returned. Staring into Abe’s eyes, how dark they looked in the dimness of your bedroom, you knew what your honest answer was.

“No.”

Abe shifted in bed to bring his head closer to yours. His rubbing slowed as his lips came closer your own, a hair’s breadth from kissing.

“Then why waste all your time gettin’ worked up about it? I won’t lie t’ you and say it’s right. But it’s been happenin’ this long. An’ neither of us wanna stop. An’ it’s my birthday. Just enjoy it while it lasts.”

Abe lapped out his tongue to lick your lips. He gave you a gentle kiss thereafter, then another. You gave in on the third, allowing his tongue to reach into your mouth. Every kiss was slow and lingered longer than the last, and on the last one, Abe pulled away and licked his lips.

“There’s my dirty girl,” he said. “Now stop mopin’ around. Don’t worry about Diana. I got somethin’ different I wanna try. And ‘big man’, by the way? I really do like that. Call me that sometime.”

With a gentle smile, Abe settled his head back between your legs. He released his fingers’ grip on your panties and allowed the lace to cover you again. You felt his tongue begin to rub against the lace. He licked and sucked continuously, allowing his nose to dip down far enough to graze against your clit. His spit began to soak through to your skin, making you feel warmer and wetter than you had before. Looking down at him, you could see that his eyes were closed. Each lick was guided by touch alone. After a minute or two, his nose again dipped below your clit, but this time, you watched as he moved his nose to and fro to smell you through your panties. Each deep, hungry inhale was followed by several moments of him slowly breathing in your scent. Then another deep inhale. Then a lick. Then more breathing. His eyes remained closed, and you resigned to watching. He tightened his grip on your thighs with each inhale, groaning with pleasure before he went back in for more.

You allowed your head to fall back on your pillow, allowing Abe to continue worshiping your scent and each thread of lace. The longer he went, the more insatiable he felt, groaning louder, gripping tighter, licking faster. He began to focus around your clit, the warmth and flicking of his tongue still fully capable of doing their work through your lingerie. Your hands gripped either side of your pillow, and your face began to feel hot. A tingling travelled up your thighs and down your calves, toward the tips of your toes. Your breaths quickened, as did your moans, as your toes curled inwards and your thighs began to squeeze together. Right on the edge, close to release, your face flush, your sheets being yanked and tugged just as you were about to cum, until—

Abe pulled his head up from between your legs.

“D’you like it so far? I know it’s a little strange. But you know how much I love these little panties of yours.”

“I do like it,” you said. Your tone was equal parts exhausted and aggravated.

“I was just about to cum, is all.”

“…Oh.”

He seemed guilty at first, but the guilt soon turned to laughter as he rested his head on your thigh.

“I’m sorry about that, sweetheart. I was so focused I hardly even noticed. On the bright side, consider it my little payback for you gettin’ so upset over a dream. But I’m a fair man. Lemme see what I c’n do about makin’ that pretty little pussy of yours feel good.”

As he brought his head back down, you pulled him in faster by his hair. His tongue promptly went back to work. He again licked up and down the lips of your pussy through the white lace of your panties. As his tongue worked, you felt the same buildup of sensations. The warmth in your face. The tingling in your legs and toes. The growing pressure between your legs as you tightened your thighs around Abe’s head. He continued, eyes closed and focused on the movements of your body as you writhed from side to side. The intensity had grown from the first near-orgasm, now leaving you nearly speechless aside from a couple of strained groans. Your back arched and your fingers pulled on the fistful of his graying hair that was in your hand. With your clit beginning to throb, you let a final gasping moan leave your mouth as your body melted into the sheets. Abe’s tongue continued to work through your orgasm, and as you settled down, his pace slowed, and he lifted his tongue from your clit, giving it one last kiss.

“No matter how many times I eat that sweet little pussy of yours,” he said, “Makin’ you cum for me never gets old.”

Abe smirked, kissing below your hips and up to your waist. He lifted your nightgown to kiss up your stomach until he got to your neck. His body weight fell along your chest and stomach as he kissed up your jaw and toward your lips.

The first kiss was soft and slow. You hesitated, but feeling his abs against your stomach sent a chill up your spine. You ran the palm of your hand up and down his chest, feeling his nipples and the warmth of his skin. Sliding your hand beneath his shirt felt even warmer, and his hair was soft and yielding to your fingertips. Before your hand could make it to his chest, he sat up. Your legs rested on his thighs as you watched him pull his white t-shirt up and over his head. His hair became ruffled and messy, and he tossed his shirt over the side of the bed and onto the floor.

He sat still for a moment. He allowed you to stare up at him. At his chest, his dark nipples, the moles on his cheek, chest, and stomach. The light brown hairs around his belly button and leading down his happy trail. His broad neck and thick arms, and each vein trailing down his forearm. He flashed a smile, watching your eyes wander up and down his body, and lifted your legs up onto your shoulders. His hands were stroking up and down your thighs for a while, squeezing and staring, before he moved on.

He was very apparently hard, his cock pointing outwards from inside of his boxers. He reached his hand inside to pull it out, and used his other hand to pull your panties aside. You were ready to feel him inside of you, but he wasn’t quite ready to let you have it. He rested the shaft of his cock between the lips of your now soaking wet pussy, and began to thrust. The underside of his shaft began to glisten with your wetness as he went, his head rubbing against your clit, then up further still until it pressed against the inside of your panties. He held your panties in place, pulling them aside just enough that he could feel the wet lace grazing against his length with each thrust, but still feel every inch of wetness between your legs each time he pulled back. You rubbed the tip of his cock each time he thrusted it toward you, and could feel it was already wet with your cum.

Abe slowed the pace of his thrusts for a short while, then pulled back enough to put his head between your lips. On one final thrust forward, you felt his cock push into you, stretching the walls of your pussy the further forward he rocked his hips. You moaned and threw your head back onto your pillow in a combination of pleasure and relief, relief of him finally being inside you after aching for him for so long.

Your legs still rested atop his shoulders as he thrusted, gripping your hips on either side to pull you into him. You closed your eyes and listened to the rain outside, still pattering against your windows. Another rumble of thunder bounced off the walls, louder than the last, as you lost yourself in the moment. The feeling of his warm palms on your waist. The sound of morning rain. The smell of Abe’s cologne from the night before. The way it felt each time he filled you and pulled back. Abe’s small groans as he looked down at himself, his shaft and balls glistening with your wetness.

“You are truly unbelievable, sweetie,” he said. “You’ve gotta be as perfect as it gets.”

You reached down and gripped Abe’s thighs in your hands, feeling each muscle flex as he fucked you. You could see them, too, the muscles in his thighs leaving outlines on his skin from the light strain of supporting his weight. Your eyes were still closed when you felt Abe take one hand and grab your ankle. You weren’t quite sure what he was doing before you felt your big toe some place warm and wet. His tongue swirled around the bottoms and tops of your toes as he thrusted faster. You could feel each of his moans in your toes, and continued to until he began to kiss down the bottom of one foot, and then the other. Once he’d gotten his fill, his body came down closer toward your chest until he hovered right above you, resting his weight on his forearms.

He said nothing, only stared for a moment at your lips before kissing them. His thrusts got slower and deeper, pushing every inch of his length inside of you before he ever pulled back. Your feet were now resting in the dip of his back, and your hands had a better grip on his thighs. You were just barely able to wrap your fingers around to the backs of his thighs, which were soft, smooth, and just as muscular as the front. Abe had moved his kisses down to the crook of your neck, where he rested his head and moans. Your hands trailed up to his sides, and stopped once your felt a couple of his moles. On his left, you felt the same moles you’d noticed in the shower, and stroked them both with your thumb as he continued to fuck you. The rain outside intensified, coming down harder, filling your eyes with the sound of your shifting mattress and breathless moans, as well as Abe’s groans and the sound of his skin slapping against the backs of your thighs. Abe pulled his head up from the crook of your neck and rested his forehead against yours, noses touching, and his deep brown eyes in full view. Your left hand continued to stroke the moles on his side, but you brought your left hand up to his face to stroke the two moles on his cheek, and run your fingers through his messy hair. His hair was soft, falling in front of his face and ears. You smoothed it back to get a full view of his face as your nails raked against the back of his scalp. Abe looked into your eyes with each moan and groan, and you stared back, lost in the deep oak brown.

“I love the way that tight little pussy feels,” he moaned. “I’ve never loved anything more in my life.”

Abe continued thrusting for a while longer before he stopped momentarily. He rolled you over onto your side, and he laid on his side behind you. He took no time sliding his cock back inside of your pussy, with one hand wrapped around the front of you to rub your clit, and the other resting underneath you, cupping your breast beneath your nightgown. He lifted the gown up toward your chest enough that you could feel his bare skin on your back, the fine hairs of his stomach tickling your skin. Meanwhile, the hair of his goatee scratched and rubbed against your shoulder and shoulder blade as he thrusted. You could feel the stiffer hairs of his stubble against your back, too, and he was close enough to your ear that you could hear each little breath, each moan he tried to hide, and every groan of pleasure he let out. He kissed just behind your ear as he continued to thrust, slow and rocking at first, gentle and caressing, enjoying the sensation of your body pressed into his.

The longer he went, the more you noticed the rain outside beginning to calm. The thunder was barely there, and hints of sunlight fought through the clouds. Listening to the rain fall outside, you wrapped your hand over Abraham’s on your chest. Each of your fingers fell between his own, intertwined and squeezing. He began to pick up his pace, his moans leaving his mouth louder and closer together as time went on. The fingers on his free hand still worked around your clit, and his thrusts became faster and more eager. He sighed out a couple curses into your ear, and leaned his head forward to kiss along your neck.

“I’m cummin’, ladybird” he moaned. He tried to say more, but pleasure took over, turning his words into a slurry of groans and sighs as he inched closer toward release.

His breaths became louder and faster, and his hand squeezed tighter on yours. After several seconds, and with another moan into your pillow and the crook of your neck, you felt Abe’s cock pull out of your pussy. He used the hand that had been working your clit to stroke himself as warm spurts of cum streamed from his cock, hitting your nightgown, falling on your stomach and waist, and some oozing out of him to drip down the front of your panties.

Abe laid still for a while, panting and placing the occasional kiss on the back of your shoulder. You were still holding his hand, with your fingers intertwined, and your hand resting on his bicep. As you pulled his arm closer to take a deep sniff of his cologne, you felt his free fingers sliding up your stomach. Abe brought his hand up toward your mouth, extending his index finger, which was covered and dripping with his cum. You extended your tongue to suck and lick his finger clean until he went back for more, repeating your obedient licking thrice more, until you’d swallowed it all.

Abe rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before sitting up and standing, extending his hand to help you get out of bed.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he said. “Let’s get cleaned up. But keep those cute little panties on. I still got some ideas for ‘em later on t’night.”

~

Standing in the kitchen in front of the stove, you tended to a pan of eggs. You’d taken off your nightgown and exchanged it for Abe’s white pinstripe dress shirt; the one he’d worn after coming over yesterday. Focused on the eggs in the pan, careful not to under or overcook them, you hardly noticed, let alone heard, Abe stepping into the room before you felt his hands wrap around your body. He kissed along your collarbone and up your neck as you cooked, still in his blue boxers, but now with a white t-shirt on. His hands caressed your sides as he squeezed his body close to his own.

“My, my, angel,” he teased. “Ain’t I a lucky man this mornin’? That shirt looks better on you than it does on me.”

You smiled, taking your spatula in your hand to check on the eggs.

“You’re very sweet.”

“Not as sweet as you taste.”

You laughed, and heard Abe laugh along behind you.

“You should head back to the table, big man. Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Be careful talkin’ t’ me like that,” Abe joked. “Unless you want another piece’a me already.”

For his birthday breakfast, you’d made him an assortment of foods; pancakes, bacon, sausage, and the eggs you tended to presently, sunny side up. Once they finished cooking, you slid them onto a plate with the bacon and sausage, separate from the plate you’d stacked his pancakes on. At the dining room table sat Abe, sipping on coffee and reading the morning newspaper with his reading glasses, his blue bathrobe wrapped around his body. Turning off the stove and carrying both plates toward the dining room, Abe peered up at you over his glasses, which he took off and set aside. Already at the table was orange juice and fruit, which he had been snacking on while he waited. He took a sip of orange juice from the glass beside him as you set his plate down in front of him. You started to turn to make your own plate, but Abe grabbed your wrist and tugged it toward him.

“Not so fast, ladybird,” he said. “It’s my birthday, and I want you t’ share breakfast with me. Here. Sit.”

He tapped his hand against his thigh, and turned so that you had room to sit. You sat down and laid your body against him, and he wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you in place. His thigh was firm and warm between your legs, and made a sturdier seat than you’d anticipated.

“You’re still a little wet from earlier, huh?” he teased. “Or maybe that’s from lickin’ on your panties the way I was. Either way, I enjoy the feelin’.”

He loaded up his fork with a bite of pancakes, and offered the first bite to you. As you took it, a drop of syrup dripped down your bottom lip and chin. Abe wiped the syrup with his thumb and licked it off, savoring it for a couple seconds before he began to eat for himself.

Breakfast continued as you sat in Abe’s lap, with Abe feeding you and feeding himself, complimenting the food and sliding his hand long the length of your thigh. It took him a while to say anything more to you.

“So,” he said suddenly, with one egg and half of his pancakes already gone, “How’d you like this mornin’? I wasn’t sure how you’d take t’ me surprisin’ you like that.”

“I enjoyed it. Weird dreams aside, I enjoyed myself.”

Abe snapped off half of a piece of bacon and offered it to you, before taking the other half for himself.

“Good. I’m glad. Hopefully I still got it in me t’ keep up with you for a while longer. I ain’t ready t’ give up all you got t’ offer.”

You and Abe both took bites of your bacon. Looking down at him, you noticed his golden cross hanging from his neck and down in front of his white t shirt. You took it in your hands and examined it again, front and back, as you popped him a question.

“Speaking of surprises,” you started, “What do you want for your birthday, anyway? Gift-wise.”

Abe took another sip of his orange juice and smiled.

“I figured this mornin’ would be enough to let you know exactly what kinda gifts I want today.”

“I’d like to get you something besides that.”

“I ain’t really the gift-gettin’ type. I’m a simple man. Food an’ sex sounds like a perfectly good birthday t’ me. I like butter pecan ice cream. I’d take some’a that today. But if you insist, I ain’t really picky. You could get me a box’a tissues and I’d be grateful. But since you like t’ cook, there is somethin’ I’d really like. My momma had a really good recipe for carrot cake. I haven’t had it in a long time. If I gave you some directions, d’you think you could make it for me, babydoll?”

As you straddled Abe’s thighs and looked down at his brown eyes, the rain outside leaving only faint patterns on the windows now, you smiled. You leaned down, still holding his cross necklace in your hand, tugging it slightly to pull him in for a kiss. It was sticky and sweet, both your and Abe’s lips still coated in syrup. When you pulled away from the kiss, Abe’s eyes remained closed for several moments longer than yours. When he opened it, lifting his lids and his long, dark lashes, he smiled and licked his lips.

“Well, then,” he said. “I’m lookin’ forward to eatin’ your cake t’night. And the carrot cake sounds good, too.”


	3. Shooting Star

Breakfast with Abraham continued lightheartedly, with Abe continuing to flirt as you sat atop his lap. His hand stroking up and down your thigh, winding up beneath your dress shirt to trace your lace panties with his fingertips. He fed you bites of food, and watched your mouth intently to track each clenching of your jaw and licking of your lips. Once his plate was clean, his arm wrapped around your waist, you reached into the fruit bowl on the table for a last slice of orange. Sinking your teeth into the fruit sent a trickle of juice dribbling from your bottom lip, down your chin. Before it could drip down to your chest, Abe caught it with his finger and collected the juice with his tongue, licking his fingertip clean.

“You’re such a beauty, babydoll,” he said. “Thank you again for spendin’ today with me.”

The orange slice was now reduced to its peel as you set it back down on Abe’s plate. Abe wrapped his hand around the back of your neck to bring your head toward his. He kissed you, lapping his tongue into your mouth with a satisfied groan. The kiss was deep and sweet, with the taste of orange and syrup overwhelming your mouth. When his sticky, syrupy lips began to pull away, he moved them down to your chin, then your jawline, where he kissed just beneath your ear.

“D’you think we got time for a round two this mornin, ladybird?”

As you chuckled, Abe continued to kiss down the length of your neck. His hand had migrated from your waist to stroke up and down your thigh, allowing his fingers to tease around your panty line.

However tempted you were, you stood up from his lap and straightened out his shirt, which you’d thrown on for the morning.

“As nice as that sounds, Mr. Pritchard, I should head out. There’s a place out of town I’d like to get some presents from.”

You turned to walk away, but felt Abe’s palm wrap around your wrist. He stood, stepping close enough to you that your body was pressed up against your dining room table. With his body pressed into yours, the sensation of his cock pressing against your panties was apparent. His hands slid up and down your sides, his tongue left streaks of wetness on your neck. He pulled your hips in closer toward his own, and tried to slip his hand between your legs, before you gently grabbed his wrist and pulled away.

“C’mon now, ladybird,” he prodded. “It’s my birthday. Today ain’t the day t’ be shy.”

“I know. And you can have all of me that you can take. After I get your presents.”

Abe heaved out a deep sigh, planting a kiss on your cheek and taking a couple steps back.

“Alright. I’ll hold you to that, ladybird. But at least let me pick what you wear.”

Abe wasted no time heading upstairs to riffle through your closet, still wearing his robe from breakfast, dead set on finding the perfect outfit for you to wear. After several minutes of mixing and matching, putting shirts next to shoes and pants next to shirts, dresses next to pairs of heels, mixing and matching colors, Abe had finally found his outfit.

From the closet, he first pulled a floral dress. The dress was white, covered in bold red roses with deep green leaves. Abe laid it on the bed next to a pair of red peep toe heels and stood back to look over the outfit, before nodding and looking over at you.

“This is it,” he said. “This right here. That’s what I wanna see you in today. This, and some pretty red lipstick. Maybe some jewelry. Where d’you keep all that?”

You stood from your seat on the edge of the bed, and slipped Abe’s dress shirt off of your shoulders and onto the floor.

“Over on my dresser. My lipstick should be lined up on top, my jewelry is in that brown wooden box.”

Before he turned his attention to your jewelry, Abe stopped a moment to look at your body. Only your panties covered your skin as you unzipped your dress and removed it from its hanger, and you watched as Abe licked his lips, his eyes focused intently on your chest.

“I do have eyes you can look at, Mr. Pritchard.”

Almost as soon as your snarky remark left your mouth, Abe looked up at you with a raised brow. He chuckled and walked toward you, shrugging off his bath robe and tossing it on the bed. He stood chest to chest with you, sliding both of his hands up your waist and to your chest, cupping your breasts in his hands and squeezing.

“I know you do. But that’s not what I’m interested in right now. It’s my birthday. I can look wherever I please. Unless you wanna do somethin’ about it, little bird.”

Your nipples were stuff against his palms, and you held your breath as his head dipped downward. His tongue swirled around one nipple as his hands squeezed around the other. The hairs of his goatee felt prickly against your breast, and his breath was warm and wet. He switched his attention to the other breast, tugging your nipple between his lips and grazing his teeth against your skin. A moan escaped your mouth, but nonetheless, you pressed gently against his freckled shoulders to get him to pull away.

“You know you have to wait, Mr. Pritchard.”

Abe kissed around both your breasts, looking up into your eyes before he stood up straight. He smirked, a grin full of bright white teeth, and licked his lips.

“You’re a bold little lady, aren’t you? Makin’ me wait on my special day. But I like it. This new assertive thing you got goin’. Makes me want it even more.”

Abe kissed your cheek and walked toward your dresser drawer with a wink, leaving you to get dressed. After finding a bra to put on, you stepped into your dress, reaching behind your back for the zipper. You managed to zip it halfway before you began to struggle, and soon thereafter, you heard Abe’s voice fill the room.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear this before, ladybird.”

In his hands was a silver necklace, and dangling from it was a star-shaped charm, and in the center, a single diamond was embedded. Abe handled it gently, just as he had with your flowers the past afternoon, unclasping it to extend the chain.

“Reminds me’a my little star. I’d really love it if you wore this for me t’day.”

As he walked up behind you, you turned your back to him, allowing him to wrap the necklace around your neck and clasp it. While your back was still turned, he helped you finish zipping your dress, then turned your body around to face him.

The style was reminiscent of a pin up, with the straps wrapping around the back of the neck in a bow, and the dress stopping just above your knees. The dipping sweetheart neckline allowed the pendant of your necklace to dangle freely over your chest, swinging side to side as you bent over to put on your heels. After passing you a tube of red lipstick and a hand mirror, allowing you to finish up, Abe stood back with his hands on his hips, and exhaled deeply.

“That dress is gonna come off a hell of a lot faster than you put it on, sweet pea. You c’n bet on that.”

With a few more pursing and unpursing motions of your lips, and satisfied with your lipstick, you set the mirror and your lipstick neatly back onto your dresser drawer. You smirked in Abe’s direction, doing a spin in place for him to see your outfit, front and back. Turned back around to face him, he stepped forward to take the star-shaped charm of your necklace between his fingers.

“I really do love this on you. It’s beautiful. Like you’re my little shootin’ star.”

“I don’t know if I’d suggest you start making any wishes on me any time soon.”

“Maybe not,” he chuckled. “But that ain’t gonna stop me from tryin’.”

Abe tugged gently on the silver pendant, pressing his lips against yours in a quaint, sweet kiss. Once you pulled away, a smudge of red lipstick was evident on his lips. Noticing your gaze, he wiped his thumb against his lips, examining the red and smiling.

He let go of your necklace, allowing you to finish getting ready. Abe wrote out a list of ingredients for his favorite cake, and you wrote your own list of gifts with which to surprise him. Now almost ready to leave, to took your white purse in tow, shuffling through it for your keys and wallet. Upon seeing you rifle through your wallet by the front door, assessing your own budget, Abe, who had taken a seat on your couch, stood abruptly.

“How rude’a me, ladybird,” he started, “I almost forgot. What kinda man would it make me if I made you spend all your own money like that?”

After disappearing upstairs and into your bedroom for several seconds, Abe came back out, still wearing only his boxers, with his wallet in hand. He handed it over to you with a smirk.

“There you go, little star. Take however much you need outta there. Whatever you need, it’s yours.”

A few seconds of stunned silence passed, with the thigh brown leather of his wallet in your palm.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to. I have the money. You pay me well, anyway. You always do.”

“I know I do,” he agreed. “But that money’s for you. You ain’t gotta spend your own hard-earned money on me. So take what you need. I insist. Maybe take a little extra to buy yourself somethin’ nice.”

With a smirk and a wink, Abe left his wallet in your hands, walking back toward your bedroom.

“In the meantime, I’m gonna head back home, check on the crops and animals. Don’t miss me too much if I’m not back by the time you are.”

Abe was now out of view, leaving you alone in your living room with his wallet in hand. Upon opening it, a thick row of green bills was first and foremost apparent. In one of the outer pockets was Abe’s ID; it was adorable to you, with a stoic, disinterested frown and tired eyes. In the adjacent pocket, however, something caught your eye. There was a circular, protruding outline, much taller than any coin would be.

You glanced up toward your bedroom door and listened for Abe, but what little shuffling you heard was distant. You wriggled your finger inside of the leather pocket to work out the object, which, as you pulled it out, gave you a familiar sinking feeling of awareness.

A gold wedding ring. Lightly scuffed with age, and cool to the touch after a day of being hidden away. You ran your fingertips over its surface, watching the way light reflected off it, and eyeing your distorted reflection in its curves. Time got away from you for several moments, staring at and into the ring, but a loud thud emanating from your bedroom pulled you out of your guilt laden trance. Quickly, you shoved the ring back into its pocket as you’d found it, and rifled through Abe’s wallet to pull out a couple hundred dollars. It was more than you really needed, you thought, but you wanted to have enough, just in case. Abe’s money in your wallet and your car keys in tow, you set Abe’s wallet on the arm of your couch and left.

The drive ahead of you was a long with, with nearly forty minutes between you and the nearest city. Having driven to and from the Pritchards’ home for years, however, a forty-minute commute was no worse than what you did every week, and sometimes every day, for work. It’d been a while since you’d seen the city last, but the prospect of seeing the sights, the stores, and comparable lack of farms. Despite your appreciation for small town life, the quiet and solitude, the naturalness of everything that surrounded yourself and your home, your closeness to everyone in town, you couldn’t deny your love for more secular comforts.

The world outside whipped past your windows, and the events of the past day replayed in your head, whizzing by, frame by frame. Just a short half day ago, quiet Sunday solitude was king. Yet now, in a pinup dress and panties soaked with his saliva, you drove into a different town to buy gifts for your married lover. The quiet hum of your car gliding over gravel had turned from a moment of calm to a sinking in the pit of your stomach. You clasped tightly to your steering wheel and cleared your throat, shifting upright, staring straight at the road ahead.

It didn’t take long for you to realize when you’d gotten to where you needed to be. The sight of new, shiny, compact cars and SUVs at every corner, without a worn-down pickup truck in sight. Car horns blaring, engines revving, music pounding and reverberating from car speakers. Even the traffic lights and cross walks on every corner were a far cry from what you saw day-to-day. All around, buildings reaching for the now-breaking morning clouds. You rolled down your window, and the sticky after-rain air filled your nose, as well as the smell of exhaust and fresh grass. You looked around for the large supermarket you frequented for trips such as this one, transporting yourself back to the last time you’d been to the city to buy your camera and camcorder. Several more minutes of driving got you where you needed to be; an expansive parking lot, and a store whose size could rival the entirety of your town.

The transition from outside to inside of the store sent a gush of cold air whooshing past your body. As far as your eyes could see was row after row of groceries, snacks, produce, and baked goods. Each of your heels clicked, one after the other, on the hard, white floor of the supermarket. With your cart rolling along in front of you, you dug through your purse for your two lists.

First in line was Abe’s list. Patrolling the refrigerator sections for cream cheese, getting lost in the aisles looking for flour, cinnamon, and sugar. While perusing the shelves for vanilla extract, a pattering of footsteps caught your attention.

“It’s you! We were looking for you!”

Before you could collect your thoughts enough to recognize the voice that called after you, two pairs of arms wrapped around either of your legs. Your heart jumped, and a box of extract was sent falling to the floor from your hands. When you looked down to see who it was, however, you exhaled and clutched your chest.

“You boys scared the devil out of me. Be careful running up on people like that.”

“We’re sorry, ma’am,” Jackson said. “It’s just we didn’t see you in church yesterday. We didn’t think we’d get to see you before we left.”

“Left?” you prodded. “Leave to where?”

“Oh, don’t let those boys make it sound dramatic,” a female voice called out. “We’re just gonna stay out of town for a little while. A week or two, maybe.”

The sound of her voice caused your stomach to lurch. Looking up to see Diana’s face was nearly unbearable. Embarrassing. Humiliating. Shameful.

“You’re dressed up so nice and pretty today,” she said. “And you’re a ways from town. What’s the occasion?”

Your heart thudded against your chest. If only she knew what you’d been doing with her estranged husband a mere hour or two ago. The dream you’d had came back to mind in waves. Her anger. Her horrified expression. Her disappointment in you. Abe’s defiance. The events of this morning. The rain, the kissing, the moaning, the sex. The cum and spit-soaked panties you wore now, warm between your legs, as you faced her, eye-to-eye.

“Nothing much, Mrs. Pritchard,” you started. A hesitant silence grew for a couple seconds.

“Mr. Pritchard stopped by my house today with a job, actually. He asked me to make a cake for him. He said it was his birthday, so I came here to get all the ingredients and maybe find a gift. I figured it’s the least I can do to thank him for giving me a good job like he has.”

Diana nodded and smiled through your words, with a tinge of a frown at the mention of Abe’s name. Once you finished speaking, one of the boys interrupted.

“Is daddy staying over at your house? Like a sleepover?” asked Noah.

You laughed off the comment despite its truth, and talked your way around it.

“I guess you could say that. I set up a spare room for him so he wouldn’t have to drive all that way, back and forth. He does it for me at your house, anyway. I’m just trying my best to return the favor.”

With every word that left your mouth, selling this lie as an act of charity, you hoped Diana would buy it. She stayed silent for a moment, but smiled, taking your hand in her own.

“You’re a very sweet girl. You truly are. He never admits it, but he does get lonely. ‘Specially now with… you know. Us goin’ through things. Abraham always did take a liking t’ you. I don’t think I’ve heard him raise his voice t’ you once.”

Your eyes wandered down towards her hands, looking for gold, but found none. Not on her right hand, and not on her left.

“Was there anything you’d like me to tell him, Mrs. Pritchard?”

She smiled and looked down at the floor, tapping your hand in a comforting way before letting go.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she stammered. “I guess tell him… tell him that despite what’s goin’ on, I hope he has a nice birthday. And maybe tell him I said I hope he found a way to settle that temper of his. Maybe he’ll listen t’ you.”

“I’ll make sure to tell him, ma’am. I hope you and the boys have a good time on vacation.”

A final hug and kiss to the boys, and a kind nod to Mrs. Pritchard ended the exchange. Once she was several steps away, you knelt down to grab the fallen vanilla extract from the floor. You clutched it over your chest and stared up into the ceiling, getting lost in the bright white lights, and exhaling to calm your shaking hands.

Powdered sugar. Oil. Baking Powder. Baking soda. You went through the rest of the list of ingredients without issue, leaving some of them, such as the butter, milk, and eggs, to get fresh back in town. You promptly turned your attention to your second list of gifts, perusing the store’s clothing sections, and perusing the area where the electronics and newest gadgets were kept. You made a point to check out quickly, with some things in your cart not for the eyes of prying estranged wives, and left.

The ride back home took about an hour, after stopping by a local market in town for what you needed for Abraham’s birthday dinner. The sun was high in the sky by now with the onset of afternoon, and most of the clouds from the morning had broken apart to give way to a bright blue sky. The doorknob clicked as you turned your key inside and pressed the door open with your palm. You’d expected to see Abe sat on the couch, watching television, but saw no such thing. You saw that his truck was backed into your yard, however, and looked around.

“Is that you, ladybird?”

Now in your living room, you could tell that Abe wasn’t downstairs; only his blue bathrobe laid on the couch cushions, with the TV remote sitting next to it. His voice was distant, but you could tell it was coming from your bedroom. Your heels clicked against your hardwood floor and up each mahogany stair as you stepped into your room, but still without sight of Abe. The bathroom door was cracked open, with a slither of light stretching across the floor.

“It’s me,” you called back. “Are you in the bathroom?”

“That I am. Just shavin’, though. I can help bring in those groceries for you in just a minute. You can come in and keep me company for a little while.”

The bathroom door creaked, opening inward. Abe stood at the bathroom sink with white shaving cream covering most of his face, and a straight razor angled against his cheek. Each stroke was slow and precise, taking globs of shaving cream and stubble with it. He was in the same boxers he was wearing when you left.

“I just thought I’d clean up extra nice today. I won’t be long.”

The scent of his cologne was strong and familiar, and mixed with the odor of shaving cream in the air. Each freckle on his back was highlighted by the harsh bathroom light, as were the freckles along his arms and chest. You reached your hand around to feel up his stomach, strands of hair brushing against each nook in your palm and between your fingers, his body muscular and solid to the touch. His gold cross dangled over his chest, jingling each time he leaned toward and away from the mirror.

“Do you plan on putting on clothes today, or is this gonna be a boxers-only birthday party?”

“Hey, now,” he joked, “Workin’ on a farm all these years paid off. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with me showin’ a little bit’a skin. How’d your little trip to the city go?”

The images of Diana and the kids came sharply back to you.

“Good,” you said. “It went good.”

Abe went for another stroke of the blade against his cheek before he responded.

“Just good?”

“It’s grocery shopping. Not the most exciting thing in the world. There’s not much to say.”

Abe cleaned off his blade with a wet cloth he’d set on the sink before going in for another stroke.

“Oh. Alright, then. Just wanted t’ ask. I know you like all that city stuff. I thought maybe you saw somethin’ you liked.”

The guilt of your lie built with each second that passed not telling him. You fiddled with your fingers, watched him work in the mirror, touched his body, much to his delight. But soon, the pressure reached a point of no return. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. You blurted out—

“I talked to Diana and the kids.”

Abe’s hand jerked away from his face, and soon thereafter, in the mirror, you saw a streak of red running down his face. You gathered up some toilet paper in your hand and turned his head towards your own, dabbing away the blood as gently as you could, without disturbing the rest of his unshaven face.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve waited until you put the blade down.”

“It’s fine, sweet pea. It’s not your fault. You just caught me off guard. That’s all.”

You continued to dab away blood until the bleeding from the cut slowed to a stop. The cut was smaller than you anticipated from the blood you’d seen running down his cheek. Once the bleeding stopped, you threw away the tissues in your hand, and allowed Abe to continue shaving.

“I gotta say, this is quite the eventful birthday I’m havin’. But you got me curious, now. What’d she have t’ say?”

“Nothing much. The kids saw me first.”

“Of course.”

“They ran up and greeted me, I said hello, and Diana came up and greeted me too. She asked me what I was doing out of town, I told her you were paying me to make you a little birthday dinner. Like a side job.”

“Did she buy it?”

“I guess so. She told me I was sweet, and how she noticed that you always took a liking to me since you’ve never yelled at me before.”

While cleaning off his blade, Abe chuckled once to himself.

“I s’pose she’s got a point there. Anything else?”

You paused, trying to recollect the message that Diana had asked you to send along as best you could.

“She said she hopes you have a good birthday today, despite everything that’s going on. And she said to try to settle your temper. And that maybe you’d listen to me.”

Abe inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. An uncomfortable silence settled over the bathroom as Abe finished shaving, with the same slow, deliberate strokes. Both cheeks were clean of shaving cream once he washed off his face, drip of water falling from his nose and lips, into the sink. He felt his face for any stray stubble, and feeling none, he cleaned off the blade once more and set it down on the sink, staring into your reflection in the mirror.

“I want you t’ be honest with me, star. Are you sure about us? Do you wanna keep doin’ this?”

The question had caught you off guard, but your answer was quick; nearly automatic.

“I’m sure.”

He turned to face you, gripping your shoulders in his hands with a firm squeeze.

“I love what we have. You know I do. But I won’t ask you to lie t’ D. Not if you’re not comfortable. If you want out, just tell me. I won’t pretend I won’t miss it. I won’t pretend I wouldn’t prefer it if we kept goin’. But if you wanna stop, tell me up front. I c’n take it. I mean, hell, look at it. You’re stowin’ away an old man who don’t wear his wedding ring no more, while you talk to his wife who still does. I’m not puttin’ you in the easiest situation.”

You mulled over Abe’s words. You couldn’t deny the discomfort you felt in your gut every time you saw Diana’s face, or the kids, or his wedding ring. But after looping his words in your head several times, looking into his sympathetic brown eyes, a sudden realization hit you.

“She wasn’t wearing it.”

Abe furrowed his brow, tilting his head curiously to one side.

“Pardon me?”

You repeated yourself.

“She wasn’t wearing it. Her wedding ring. She didn’t have it on when I saw her.”

You struggled to read the emotion in Abe’s face. It seemed like a mixture of so many things; his furrowed brow, his mouth slightly ajar, his eyes squinted in something like disbelief. He stood upright and looked around the room, stroking his goatee and nodding to himself.

“Well, then,” he started. “Maybe we ain’t got much t’ worry about. Who knows. Maybe she has her own fella of the night now.”

His tone was low, the passive aggression apparent.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t be upset. Look at what I’m doin’. We’re separated, anyway. We c’n both do what we want.”

His tone was quieter now; resigned, and some tinge of disappointed. He prodded his cheek with his tongue and looked you over, standing in your red peeptoes and dress. Several seconds passed before he bit his lip and cracked a smile.

“Since you seem not t’ like me walkin’ around here in my underwear, I’m gonna get dressed. Then I can help you with those groceries. Your loss, though. I think my body’s hangin’ in there pretty good for my age.”

It took Abe only a few minutes to get dressed. You’d gone outside to hide away the gifts you’d gotten first, along with the wrapping paper and bows you’d bought to wrap them with. By the time you found all the gifts, hidden them, some place safe, and headed back outside to bring in more groceries, Abe stood in the front door. He wore a blue plaid shirt, with rows of white and burgundy forming cross hatches every which way. It was left open, showing his white t-shirt beneath, tucked into his black dress pants, secured at the waist by a dark brown leather belt. His black dress shoes tapped against the pavement of your driveway towards your car, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Are there any surprises in here I shouldn’t touch, darlin’?”

“Already hid all that away, Mr. Pritchard.”

“Clever girl,” he said. “Guess you learned last night that I can’t help but be a little nosy.”

The two of you traveled back and forth, inside and outside of the house, setting groceries on the kitchen counter to put away. With most of your counter space covered with groceries, and all of what you needed in the house, you were finally able to close the door behind you, and get to work on today’s birthday festivities.

Abe helped you put the groceries away, aside from those you needed to prepare lunch. On the menu were barbecue roast pork sandwiches with home cut fries; a guilty pleasure of his, he’d told you, but one he didn’t get to eat often.

You were hard at work, seasoning the pork, washing the potatoes, cutting them into fries. As you’d come to expect to be par for the course today, Abe often stood in the kitchen to watch with flirtatious advances, stroking his hands down your arms, hugging you from behind, and kissing the crook of your neck. You tried your best to focus on the meal at hand despite him, and managed to do so, if not without the occasional moan of pleasure from his touch.

Lunch was served and eaten, and leftovers covered and put away. The smell of barbecue still lingered throughout the house, permeating nearly every room downstairs. Abe was fully satisfied, sat on the couch with his plaid dress shirt now buttoned and tucked. A silver watched wrapped around his wrist ticked loud enough for you to hear, sitting next to him, your head cushioned by his shoulder. He rested his hand between the warmth of your thighs, stroking his thumb along your skin, his other thumb controlling the remote, flipping through channels.

With drooping eyes and a full stomach, you clung onto Abe’s arm, scanning your eyes over your living room. Your eyes settled on the television for several seconds, them moved to your walls, then toward your kitchen, and back toward your TV again. The sight of your camera on your coffee table caught your eye upon looking downward. You leaned forward to grab it and examine it, flipping it on its side and on its face. Abe noticed the movement of your hands and fiddling of your fingers, glancing over to see what you were doing.

“You wanna do some more posin’ for me, or what?”

Without a word spoken, you straddled his lap. Through the viewfinder you looked at his face, his eyebrows cocked upward, with a smile on his face.

“Oh, we’re takin’ pictures of me now?” he teased. “I don’t know, ladybird. I think you work the camera better than I do.”

He tugged your thighs closer in his lap, looking up curiously into your camera lens. You snapped a picture, waited for the polaroid, shook it, and set it aside. Looking through the viewfinder a second time, you saw Abe’s face again, this time with a broad, goofy grin on his face. The corners of his mouth curled into deep smile lines, and around his eyes were branching crow’s feet. You kept one hand still gripped around the camera, and with the other, ran your thumb over the wrinkles that surrounded his eyes.

“You don’t have t’ tell me, darlin’. I know I’m old.”

“The wrinkles are handsome. They suit you, sir.”

“They suit me ‘cause I’m old.”

You leaned over to kiss his cheek, then up toward the corners of his eyes. You kissed along his wrinkles on either side as he smiled, with earned a hardy laugh from Abe. You continued kissing, switching from one side to the next, until Abe finally turned his head away, still laughing heartily.

“Alright, doll, alright,” he laughed. “I got it. You think the wrinkles are cute.”

Looking through the viewfinder now, Abe grinned, his face reddened from laughter. You snapped pictures of him and set them aside, letting him make new faces for each one. One with his tongue out, another with a fake frown, another with his eyebrows raised high. After taking six pictures, you’d gotten your fill, and put the photos some place safe to develop.

The rest of the afternoon before dinner was spent lounging on the couch playfully kissing and laughing together at whatever TV show Abe had chosen to watch. A few more hours passed until, looking up at the clock at hung on your wall, you realized it was nearing seven o’clock.

Gently, you let go of Abe’s arm, stood, and stretched. A couple of your bones popped, and a rush of tingling sensations ran up from your toes to the top of your head. You slid your feet into your heels to give Abe the view you knew he wanted, and waltzed into the kitchen, prepared to start Abe’s birthday festivities off right.

More potatoes washed in the sink, along with two large stalks of broccoli. Two large steaks pulled from the fridge, fresh from the market today, seasoned front and back and set aside. At your small kitchen table, Abe sat and watched you, all the while cracking pecans in his hand to get them ready for his birthday cake.

“I could’ve taken care of those, you know.”

“I’m sure you could’ve, darlin’. But I don’t mind at all. It’s sorta therapeutic, actually.”

His eyes drifted down your legs, to your ruby red heels.

“And I got a great view.”

Dinner was nearly ready, with two potatoes in the oven, broccoli steaming on the stove, and steak sizzling in your cast iron pan. You turned your attention now to Abe’s cake, the recipe to which you kept close by on the kitchen counter. Abe watched attentively now as you read his directions, taking care to do everything to his liking.

“You almost look a little nervous, sweet pea,” he said, stepping up behind you. He kissed along your neck and down to your shoulder, caressing your hips as he swayed from side to side.

“Relax, doll,” he whispered. “This ain’t life or death. You could make the worst cake I’ve ever tasted, and I’d still appreciate it. I got other things I can eat from you, anyway.”

You followed his recipe exactly, heeding each direction. Grating carrots, a pinch of cinnamon here, a cup of sugar there. The directions weren’t perfect; Abe didn’t know every measurement or every method, but you filled in the blanks as best you could. The cake went in the oven by the time it was tome for the baked potatoes to come out, and one steak had finished cooking as you placed the other in to cook. Dinner was coming along as smoothly as it could’ve, and once it was finished, you turned your attention back to Abe.

“What would you like first, sir?” you asked. “Dinner, or your presents?”

Abe snooped around the kitchen. The kitchen was filled with the smell of beef and broccoli, and the strong scent of cinnamon from the cake as it sat to cool on the counter. He licked his lips and rubbed his stomach, eyeing all the food laid out on the stove and countertops.

“Dinner first, ladybird,” he’d decided, finally. “The smell’a all this food’s got me hungry. I’d love to see what you got me, but you can make me wait for it. Again.”

You picked up two plates from your cabinet, but at the sound of them clanking against one another, Abe turned around.

“Oh, you’re only gonna need one’a those plates, ladybird. You’ll be eatin’ with me.”

You fixed a plate with the bigger steak of the two, and a baked potato complete with butter, sour cream, bacon, cheese, and green onions. On the side was a healthy pile of steamed broccoli, and you set the plate in front of Abe in your dining room, where he sat with a glass of bourbon that he’d already fixed himself. He turned in his chair to leave his leg exposed, and rubbed his hand against his thigh.

“Right here, doll. Sit.”

Sitting in his lap felt familiar to breakfast, but you missed the warmth of his exposed skin between your legs. You were comfortable nonetheless, and watched as Abe cut into his steak. He spent a couple minutes doing so without taking a bite; nearly the entire steak was cut before he adjusted you in his lap and took a bite. He followed with a forkful of broccoli and baked potato, with a pleasurable moan as his hand rubbed up and down your back.

“This is amazing, sweetheart. It really is. Try it for yourself.”

He loaded up his fork, first with a bite of steak and potato, which he fed to you. He gave you a large piece of broccoli once you’d finished that bite, then continuing to eat himself.

As he ate, his hand trailed down your waist and back around the front of your stomach, then down further toward your thigh and to your knee. He worked his hand up your dress, his hand now touching your bare skin. His fingers tickled between your thighs and worked up to your panties before slipping inside, his fingers working between your lips.

You gasped sharply at the sudden sensation of his fingers around your clit, to which Abe chuckled. He said nothing, only continued to eat with one hand as he worked around your clit and between your wet lips with the other. You writhed and moaned in his lap at his touch, your face warm and your ears hot as he continued. Every now and again he’d offer you bites of food, which you sometimes took, and sometimes refused on account of focusing on his touch. Your toes curled inside of your heels, and your fingernails dug into his thigh through his pants.

By the time Abe only had a few bites left on his plate, you could hardly hold back. Still, Abe said nothing, only watching you twist and arch your back, squeezing your thighs around his own and clawing into his skin. He leaned back in his seat, working his fingers faster, then slower, then faster, teasing you toward orgasm. With a now clean plate, Abe focused his attention on the movement of his fingers, dipping between your lips and around your clit, massaging the warmth between your legs. An intense wave of throbbing sent a pitchy, squeaking moan out of your mouth, toes tightly curled, and thighs squeezed tightly around Abe’s leg. He laughed, continuing to massage you with his fingers through the throbbing, then slowing his pace, dipping his fingers between your lips to coat them in your wetness. He pulled his fingers out of your panties and put them in his mouth, sucking the taste of you off of his fingers, coating his tongue with your wetness. He squeezed his hand against his crotch, leaning back in his chair, and allowing you to stand to straighten your dress.

“Alright, ladybird.” he said. “I think I’m ready for dessert.”

Still in your rose red heels, you made your way to the kitchen, your legs still shaking and tingling from your orgasm just seconds before. You assembled his cake, stacking it, icing it, covering it in the pecans he’d crushed earlier in the day. On top, you lined five candles up in a circle, lighting each with a match. Once the cake was prepared to your liking, you grabbed a plate and a new carton of butter pecan ice cream from your freezer, and made your way back to your dining room.

The orangey-red glow of the candles reflected off of your face as you walked into the room towards Abe. He smiled at the sight of you, cake and ice cream in hand, standing to carry his own cake to the table. Once he sat down, the five flickering candles reflecting off of his eyes, he examined either side of the cake.

“I didn’t realize I was turnin’ five today.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Pritchard. I just didn’t think a hundred candles could fit on the cake.”

Abe laughed, and you soon thereafter felt a pinch on your backside. You jumped, and Abe laughed louder, turning his attention back to your cake.

“I ain’t that old, star,” he said. “Now stop gettin’ smart with me, an’ lemme make my wish.”

Abe closed his eyes in front of the cake, his face covered in the faint glow of the candles, now beginning to drop wax down their sides. His eyes opened, lifting his thick dark lashes, and with a quick puff of air from his mouth, the candles were blown out.

“Now I get to see how you did with this cake.”

You removed the candles from the cake, cutting Abe a sufficiently thick slice of cake and placing it on his plate. Next to it, you place two scoops of butter pecan, and waited for Abe to have a taste.

He sunk a spoon into the cake, cutting paste the cream cheese frosting and the brown, cinnamon laden bread. He made sure to get plenty of pecans in with his bite, and putting it in his mouth, he furrowed his brow. You held your breath and watched while he moved his mouth around slowly and thoughtfully, as if trying to taste each part. He let the icing melt in his tongue, broke the cake apart gently with his teeth, and crunched down on each pecan until you caught a smile spread across his lips.

“That’s a damn perfect cake, ladybird.”

You exhaled with relief, holding your hand over your chest. Abe chuckled and took another bite of his cake, this time with ice cream, and looked up at you.

“I told you you didn’t have anything t’ worry about, didn’t I? I knew you’d do just fine.”

“I know you did, Mr. Pritchard,” you sighed. “But I guess now we’ll see if you like your presents as much as you like the cake.”

Leaving Abe to sit and eat for a short while, you cleaned up a little, putting dishes in the sink and putting the ice cream back in the freezer. Afterwards, you headed upstairs to your bedroom. You’d stashed the presents under your bed, and wrapped all three of them between cooking Abe’s dinner and cake. You brought them downstairs and set them in front of Abe, pressing one gift forward for him to open first.

Abe put his spoon down to grab the present and shake it next to his ear, listening for any hint for what it could be. The package was heavy and cube shaped, but as he unwrapped it, he smiled wide.

“You got me one’a my own little video cameras, huh? And some little tapes. You were that scared I was gonna break yours?”

You pouted playfully, and Abe rubbed his hand up and down along your back.

“I’m messin’ with you, doll. I really appreciate it.”

He gave you a peck on the cheek before moving on to his next present. Shaking this one, it was equally heavy, and the packaging somewhat bigger. The wrapping paper shredded and ripped as Abe got to the present box, and he opened the lid to see a pair of white heels. He was confused at first, but after urging him to continue on to the last present, he got the idea.

“You told me to get something nice for myself,” you said. “So I got something I knew you’d enjoy, too.”

The last gift was much lighter than the two before, and shaking it revealed a soft shuffling within. Inside was a set of lingerie; white stockings with bows, white garter belt, panties, and a flowing white babydoll top. Abe could hardly contain his excitement, “oooing” and marveling at each piece of lingerie in the set. He leaned back in his seat, one hand on his spoon and the other resting over his crotch, and licked his lips.

“How about you strip for me, an’ show me how that looks on you?”

You started by kicking off your heels. You then reached up your back to unzip your dress and untie the bow that secured the dress behind your neck. While you pulled it slowly to the floor, you kept your eyes on Abe, who continued to eat his cake and ice cream and watch. He squeezed himself through his pants, biting and licking his lips anxiously. You began to slide your panties to the floor, but Abe stopped you.

“No, no, no, sweetheart,” he cooed. “Keep those on. I ain’t done with ‘em yet.”

You pulled the panties back up around your hips, and began to put on the lingerie piece by piece. Right stocking, left stocking, right heel, left heel. Abe watched, his hand migrating up towards his belt.

Soon, the entire outfit was on, heels and all. You spun in place for Abe, offering yourself to his eager eyes as he ate spoonful after spoonful of his cake. Without him asking, you got down on your knees, crawling up between his legs, grazing your teeth against his inner thighs. You teased his length with your tongue, much to his pleasure; he tilted head back with a groan and a laugh, biting his bottom lip as he watched you grovel.

“You know what I always loved about you, ladybird?” he asked, pulling the leather strap of his belt out of the buckle, “You always know exactly what I want. And you know exactly how t’ give it t’ me. And for an old dog like me, there ain’t nothin’ in this world sexier than a woman who knows how t’ please her man.”

He finished unbuckling and unzipping his pants, leaving you to do the rest. No sooner than your fingers slid inside of his boxers, it was apparent that he was already hard, to which you couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t think you’ve ever let me see you when you’re not already at attention.”

“Well,” he reasoned, “What d’you expect a man t’ do when you’re always dressed up an’ ready t’ give me that sweet little mouth’a yours?”

You started by running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, stopping at the top to suckle on his head. Your eyes remained fixated on Abe’s as you licked, kissed and suckled, and he stared back, watching your tongue work, bucking his hips back and forth to slide his cock against your wettened lips.

“How about you wrap those beautiful lips around my balls too, sweetheart?”

Heeding his command, you reached your hand into his boxers to pull out his balls. While you stroked his shaft with one hand, you massaged his balls with the other, licking and sucking them into your mouth. As you worked, Abe slid his hand behind your neck, holding you firmly in place.

“There you go, doll. Just like that. You like the way those taste, don’t you?”

You moaned back a “yes, sir” before putting your tongue back to work, suckling each ball, one after the other, swirling your tongue in circles on either side. Abe watched intently, still holding you in place, but now turning his attention back toward his half-eaten cake. He took a couple bites, but stopped suddenly, lifting your head from between your legs.

He said nothing more, but took smeared a glob of icing on his finger. He wiped it on the base of his shaft, then went in for more. He placed small dollop after dollop up the length of his cock, then left two more on either side of his balls, Once he was done, he licked the excess icing from his finger and leaned back in his chair.

“Clean all of that up for me, darlin’. Take your time.”

Starting from the bottom, you sucked one ball into your mouth, letting the icing smear against your tongue. You continued to suckle and lick until the cream was gone, and continued more until the taste of sugar disappeared. Only then did you move on to the next ball, then to the base of his shaft, licking up every dot of icing he’d placed on himself. Abe sighed out a moan as you worked your way towards his head, and once you reached the final dot of icing, smeared just beneath the tip of his cock, you felt his fingers squeeze against the back of your neck. He sighed out a groan once you were finished, loosening his grip on your neck.

“That’s my girl,” he moaned. “Now show me how much’a me you can fit in that pretty little mouth.”

Tongue lapping against his head, you started by sucking the tip of Abe’s cock. He kept his grip on your neck firm, guiding your head to push you down farther and farther each time your head bobbed down. You massaged his shaft with your tongue, allowing streams of your spit to drip past your lips, down his length, and onto his balls. Abe moved his hand up to the back of your head, taking another bite of his cake and ice cream. He bucked his hips up, sending his cock closer to the back of your throat. He did this several times, all the while placing pressure on the back of your head to keep your head in place. One final thrust sent every inch of him down your throat, making your body recoil with a spit-dripping gag. Abe released his grip on your head completely, allowing you to lift your head and clear your throat, but not without an amused chuckle and a grin.

“Looks like your mouth still ain’t used t’ how big I am. Try it again.”

You regained your composure and tried again. His shaft was glistening with spit and drool, falling in streams down his length and onto his balls, some of it pooling in the dining room chair. You went slower this time, licking and twisting your head, working your way down an extra half inch each time you bobbed your head down. You were able to make it to the base of his shaft without gagging this time, and Abe allowed you to catch your breath before holding the back of your head with both hands.

He thrusted his hips upwards towards his chair, using his hands to hold your head steady. The sound of spit sloshing in your mouth was audible was each of his upwards thrusts. You gripped into his thighs and held your breath, allowing him to use your mouth as he pleased. Once you ran out of breath, your full body recoiled again with another gag, prompting Abe to again let go.

“So big you can hardly handle it, ain’t it?”

You swallowed and caught your breath.

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s what I thought. But I know you like it big, anyway.”

You took a small break before going back in for more, teasing and licking around his balls and the base of his shaft. Abe watched, now with his arms crossed, allowing you to move at your own pace. Before you could focus your attention back on sucking him off, your telephone rang. You continued massage Abe with your tongue for a few seconds, but hearing that the phone wasn’t going to stop ringing, you stood and walked toward the phone.

When you answered, your blood ran cold.

“Hello?”

“Hi, darlin’. I’m sorry t’ bother you so late. It’s just I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about us bumpin’ into each other earlier today. Is Abraham there?”

You peered back at Abe in the dining room, who was still sitting down in his seat. He made the shape of a phone with his hands and mouthed to ask who it was. You mouthed back her name, and pointed at your ring finger, to which Abe rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples.

“He’s here, ma’am.”

“Would you mind passin’ him the phone? The kids really wanted t’ wish him a happy birthday.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You walked slowly back into the dining room, trying to quiet the noise of your heels clicking against hard wood. Abe took the phone from your extended hand, and you turned to leave. Before you could take more than a step, Abe gripped his hand around your wrist. He tugged you back down on your knees in front of him, and positioned his cock back in front of your mouth, tapping it against your lips. As he spoke on the phone, you timidly continued to lick just beneath his head, able to hear his conversation clearly.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Abraham.”

Abe paused to glance down at you.

“D. Hey. Wasn’t expectin’ t’ hear from you today.”

“I know. But I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

He pushed your head down his shaft, stopping halfway, guiding your head up and down. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, fighting back a moan.

“Thank you, D.”

“You’re welcome. The sitter said you asked her to bake you a cake. Was it okay?”

“Oh, it was wonderful,” Abe said. He strained through his words, fighting back another moan as you worked his cock deeper down your throat.

“She did an amazin’ job. Just perfect.”

“That’s good,” Diana said. “I’m glad. I know you’re hard to please.”

“Am I? I think I’m a simple man. I’ll eat just about anything.”

Abe winked in your direction and smirked. A sigh from Diana was audible over the phone, and a short pause, before you heard her voice again, still massaging Abe with your tongue.

“Anyway, the boys wanted to wish you happy birthday. I’ll hand the phone over t’ them. Goodnight, Abraham.”

“Night, D.”

There was another pause, with shuffling over the line, then the voice of Noah over the phone.

“Hi, dad.”

“Hey, Noah. Are you behavin’ out there with your mom?”

“Why d’you think I’m always bein’ bad? I’ve been really good. I saw the babysitter today.”

“I know, she told me. Was there somethin’ you wanted t’ tell me?”

“Oh, yeah! Hold on.”

There was a pause on the line, then the sound of the boys whispering a countdown into the phone. On three, you heard a loud and screeching “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” from both boys. It was loud enough that Abe pulled the phone away from his ear momentarily, with an exasperated smile.

“Thank you, boys. I think I might be deaf now, but thank you.”

“Momma said the babysitter cooked you a cake. Is that true?” asked Noah.

“It is.”

Jackson’s voice cut in.

“Was it your favorite carrot cake? When we saw her today, I saw carrots and stuff in her cart.”

“Good on you, Jackson. Very smart. Yes, it was.”

“She’s such a nice lady. I love her.”

Abe looked down at you, with a cheeky smile, and bit his lip.

“She is a nice girl, isn’t she?”

Both of the boys agreed in unison, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright,” Abe started. “It’s late. You boys oughta be in bed. Y’all behave with your mom, you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” they both replied.

“Good. Now, what’s that scripture I always tell y’all? The one about honorin’ your parents.”

Again, the kids spoke in unison.

“Honor thy father and they mother, that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord, thy God, giveth thee.”

“Exodus, chapter twenty, verse twelve,” Jackson added.

“Good. Very good. Now y’all go t’ bed. Thank you for the birthday wishes. And uh, tell your mother…”

Abe paused to think, stroking his hand over his goatee, then caressing your cheek.

“Tell your mother I said, uh… I hope she has a nice time on vacation. Okay?”

“Okay,” said the boys.

“Good. Goodnight, you two.”

With a “Night, dad,” from Noah and a “Goodnight, daddy,” from Jackson, Abe hung up. He stared at the phone for several moments, then cracked a smile, then broke into a bout a full belly laughter. His smile lines crowded around his mouth, and the wrinkles around his eyes deepened, and he wiped away a tear before calming himself down.

“That wasn’t funny, God,” he chuckled, staring up into your chandelier. “It really wasn’t. I’m sorry. I will fall t’ my knees and repent soon enough. But it was pretty damn funny.”

Abe glanced back down at you, who had continued to suck and lick him throughout the conversation, he lifted your head by the chin, and ran his thumb over your lips.

“And you, ladybird. You almost gave everything away just now.”

“I thought you wanted me to keep going, big guy.”

“I did. But my God, birdie. You don’t know how hard it was not t’ make a sound.”

Abe scanned the room for a moment, then settled his eyes on one of his other presents.

“Doll.”

“Yes, sir?”

He reached over the table for the camcorder you’d bought for him, turning it every which way in his hands.

“Show me how t’ work this damn thing. I wanna try somethin’ really special t’night.”

You helped set up the camera for Abe, which only took several minutes. The battery from the package wasn’t yet charged, so you put in one of your own charged spares. You put in a blank tape for him, turned on the camera, and handed it back.

“There. It should be going now.”

Abe slipped his hand through the safety strap and looked through the viewfinder. The red record button blinked red, and he pointed the lens at your face.

“There you are, beautiful. Yeah, I see you just fine.”

He angled the lens down your body, filming you as you stood before him in your white lingerie. While guiding the camera back up toward your face, he revealed his intentions.

“I wanna film everything this time, star,” he whispered. “All sorts’a stuff. Anywhere we c’n manage.”

He passes the camera to you, and before you can get a steady view through the viewfinder, he picks you up and sits you on the table. He kisses down your neck gripping your sides, pulling your hips closer. But then, he lays you down on your back, standing between your legs.

He reached over the table for his carrot cake, and on his finger took a smear of cream cheese frosting. He spread it on your thigh, then went in for another. And another. And another. He smeared icing on your thighs, then spread the opening of your babydoll top apart to spread icing on your stomach. He placed a final spot of icing on your chest, then dipped his head between your legs.

“Point the camera at that beautiful body’a yours, bird.”

Abe licked off the icing in the same order he’d put it on. Trailing his tongue up your inner thighs, then your upper thighs. Leaving a trail of his pit up your stomach and he sucked up each white streak of icing. His goatee left goosebumps wherever it touched, tickling your stomach, making you squirm. You switched between watching him through the camera and with your own eyes as he traveled up your body with his mouth. He soon got to the last dab of icing spreading his tongue over your chest, and groaning with pleasure at the taste of your icing mixed with the taste of your skin. The scent of his cologne wafted into your nose as he stood upright, satisfied now with how thoroughly he’d cleaned your body.

“Alright, pretty girl. Gimme that camera back.”

Abe took the camera from your hand, standing between your legs. He pointed the camera at your thighs, taking a couple steps backwards. He then slid off your heels, setting them on the dining room table. He grabbed both of your feet, placing them on either side of his shaft, and began to thrust, forward and back. The skin of his cock tugged against your stocking, and his head popped in and out of view between your feet. The sensation of his skin rubbing the soles of your feet was ticklish, and your body squirmed playfully on the dining room table. He filmed all the while, holding your feet with one hand and the camera with the other, allowing several minutes for your feet to do the work.

Once satisfied with that, he spread your legs apart. His fingers teased outside of your panties, which were again becoming hot and wet. He petted your pussy with his fingers, then brought his fingers to his nose for a deep inhale, taking in your scent. He groaned with pleasure, tugging your panties to the side.

“You smell even better than you did this mornin’,” he said. “I told you keepin’ those panties on was a good idea.”

Without another word, he slid one finger inside of you. You couldn’t help but moan, and the feeling of finally having some part of him inside of you flushed your body with a wave of warmth. He watched you arch your back, moving in rhythm with his finger, then slid in a second. He looked at your through the viewfinder, your wet and spreading pussy lips, your toes curling in your sheer white stockings. The slick sound of your wetness against his skin was audible as Abe brought the camera in for a close-up. His fingers glistened, as did your clit, and in the middle of your panties was a large wet spot. He continued to finger you for a while longer, before pulling his fingers back out of you.

“There we go. Now I can get t’ what I really wanted.”

He slid his fingers back between your legs, but this time, focused on your ass. He prodded with one finger at your entrance, pushing his way through. You moaned louder this time, your asshole squeezing tight around his finger, but had little time to recover before you felt his cock slide into your pussy. He thrusted forward with his hips and fingers in opposite order; the farther his cock pushed into you, stretching your dripping wet walls, the more he pulled his finger out of your second hole. As Abe thrusted and moaned, trying his best to keep a good view for the camera, he began to tease a second finger at your hole. He allowed the wetness of your pussy to trickle down as lube, and once he was confident enough that your body was ready for it, he slid in a second finger.

Your body felt full now, with Abe stretching you out from both ends. Your face was warm, your legs tingled, and your toes curled inside of your stockings. You steadied yourself, grabbing on to the edge of your dining room table, your body lurching backward each time Abe thrusted forward. Soon, however, Abe stopped, pulling his cock out of your pussy, soaked in glistening wetness that reflected the light from the chandelier above.

“D’you think you c’n handle me in here now? Or am I still too big?”

He pressed the head of his cock between your asscheeks, to which your body involuntarily jerked.

“You can try. I don’t know if it’s gonna fit.”

He turned the camera on himself, smirking into the lens.

“Alright, then. Let’s try.”

He took his time rocking his hips forward and back, teasing his head around your hole. Each thrust got him a little closer to getting inside, but not without some degree of discomfort.

“How is it, ladybird?”

“It’s okay,” you breathed. “Keep going.”

He continued to press his way farther and farther into you, his shaft still practically dripping with your wetness. With one last thrust, and a “pop” you felt inside of you, his head had pushed its way in.

“You still alright?”

“Yes, daddy,” you moaned. “Give it to me.”

“You’re somethin’ else, bird. You really are.”

He pushed his way slowly inside of you, gently pulling out and trying again each time he was met with resistance. You were flooded with a combination of pleasure and discomfort, which only sent you moaning and squirming when you felt him stretching your walls. With patience, however, he’d worked most of himself inside of your ass, and rubbed his fingers over your stomach to comfort you.

“There you go, sweetheart. You’re doin’ real good.”

He kept his pace slow and steady, and kept the camera pointed between your legs. You closed your eyes and allowed him to do his work, comfortable with the care and control he had over your body. He pulled back at every sign of your discomfort, and kept one hand always on his stomach, stroking with his thumb to keep you comfortable. You gripped his wrist with both hands, soothed by his touch, moaning in rhythm with the rocking of his hips. Abe himself moaned freely, picking up his pace when he felt you were comfortable.

The sensation was new to you, and new to Abe, too. He guided each thrust carefully, glancing away from the camera to stare at your glowing body, clothed in white.

“And I thought that little pussy of yours was tight,” he teased. “I didn’t expect it t’ feel this different.”

“Bad different?”

“Far from it, angel. It’s perfect. Wet. Tight. Feels amazin’. Just like the rest’a you.”

With time, Abe was able to work a couple more inches of himself inside of you. Every stroke sent more chills up your spine than the last. Minutes passed of moaning, from Abe’s mouth and your own, and the low creak of your dining room table as your body bounced back and forth. You reached your hand between your legs, stroking your own throbbing clit. Abe noticed your desire, moving your hand aside and replacing it with his own. As he thrusted, his thumb worked in wet, sticky circles around your clit. You stared up into the chandelier above, then closed your eyes. Everything, from your head to your toes, felt warm. The smell of carrot cake wafted into your nose. Everything felt just as Abe had described it; perfect.

Abe’s gentle touch migrated up towards your breast, giving it a tight squeeze before he began to slow his pace again, looking away from the camera and instead at you.

“You are one special girl. But I think maybe we should switch things up again. For the camera.”

You reached your fingers between your legs, stroking between your own wettened lips.

“It’s your birthday. Where would you like to go, Mr. Pritchard?”

Abe smirked.

“The last time we fucked on a couch, we got interrupted, didn’t we?” he said. “The very first time we ever did anything like this.”

He leaned the camera closer, getting a long shot of your body.

“I think we should finish what we started back then.”

He held out his hand for you to grab, allowing you to stand to your feet. You walked to the living room, waiting for him on the couch while he rinsed himself off. Once he returned, he set the camera on your coffee table.

“Before we start, I’d like to ask you somethin’.”

“Anything you want, sir.”

“I want you t’ take the reins for a little while. Show me what kinda young girl tricks you got up your sleeve.”

You smirked to yourself, and looked around the room. Still on the couch next to you was his bathrobe from earlier in the morning. You pulled the rope from his bathrobe out of the loops and wrapped it around one hand, then stood to face Abe. Pulling his dress shirt from his pants, unbuttoning each button, uncuffing his sleeves and rolling his shirt up to his elbows. You tugged his belt to get him on his knees on the floor, where you tie his hands behind his back and lay him down. Abe allows you to do all of those, without a word of objection, only smirks and chuckles at your sudden exercise of power.

Without saying anything more, you straddled his face, your body facing out toward his waist and legs. You settled yourself comfortable, using his mouth as your seat, feeling huffs of breath between your legs as he breathed.

He took little time getting to work. He lapped his tongue between your lips through your panties, and trailed his tongue further upward towards your taint and ass. His cheeks were warm and smooth between your thighs, freshly shaven, with a hint of aftershave still evident. Each prickly hair of his goatee was like a pinpricked jolt of electricity, sending tingles through your legs and up your spine. You settled your hands on his chest to steady yourself, and through his shirt you should feel his cross necklace. You stroked over it with your thumb, eyes closed, as you enjoyed the sensation of his tongue.

Leaning forward, you began to reciprocate. As Abe licked between your legs, his arms still restrained, you bent over to lick and suck his cock. You teased at first, leaving only kisses and shy licks along his shaft, but soon moved on to sucking the head, moving further down to allow half of him down your throat, and taunting him every now and again with deepthroat, which only lasted a second before you pulled back up, forcing him to wait for the next one.

The camera on the table caught it all. Every lick, every kiss, every moan, and every breath. You felt Abe growing impatient, his gently placed licks turning into bites and tugs at your panties to pull them aside, eager to get a taste of all of you. You sat up slightly to give him room to talk.

“Alright,” he said, pulling his mouth away just far enough to speak, “You had your little fun. Now how ‘bout you take these cute little panties off so I can really get at it?”

You shift from side to side, feeling the warmth of his mouth between your legs, tracing up and down his stomach with your fingertips.

“I think I’ll keep them on for now, sir. Make you wait a little while longer.”

Abe laughed for a short while, and spoke once he’d regained his composure.

“Okay,” he chuckled. “Fair play. We’ll see where this little stunt’a yours gets you later on t’night.”

“I’m sure I can take a little revenge.”

“Okay, ladybird,” he teased. “Whatever you say. But it’s my birthday. And I ain’t got a problem remindin’ you who runs the show around here.”

You sat back down, where you stayed for several more minutes. You no longer pleasured him with your mouth; only stroked his shaft with his hand, with the occasional bout of verbal teasing. “Good boy,” you’d say. “You’re doing so well. You feel so good”. Abe said nothing, but continued exploring you with his tongue, until finally, you sat up and got off of him.

“Should I untie you now, sir?”

Abe sat himself up, with a sly laugh.

“You’re damn right you should. You had your little fun. I liked it. Now we c’n really see how good you are at takin’ revenge.”

Almost as soon as you untied him, he pulled you by the arm to sit you on the couch. He placed his hands on either side of your panties and yanked, ripping them off of your body and clutching them in his palm.

“Sorry about that. I’ll buy you a pretty new pair t’ make up for it.”

Abe teased his head between the lips of your pussy, but didn’t yet push inside. He unraveled your torn panties in his hand, pushing them up to his nose and inhaling deeply. He moaned on his exhale, then inhaled again, with another long, groaning exhale.

With one more swift movement your torn underwear were in his mouth. His spit seeped into each thread of lace as he tasted you. His tongue swirled around the fabric, touching and rubbing every inch he could reach. He rocked his hips forward and back all the while, sliding his cock between the lips of your aching, wet pussy.

Once he’d gotten his fill, tasting, touching, and smelling your day-old underwear, he removed them from his mouth. Before he tossed them aside to move on, he wrapped the now-soaked panties around his cock. His hand stroked slowly up and down, the soiled fabric leaving his cock glinting with the wetness of you both

“I might just have t’ take this pair home with me,” he said, his hand still guiding the fabric up and down his shaft, and down towards his balls. “They taste and smell like heaven. Here. You try.”

He leaned forward, stuffing the panties into your mouth. In short order, he positioned you on your hands and knees, and was almost immediately inside of you. Your moan came out as a muffled, high-pitched shriek, and Abe licked his lips, leaning over to grab his camera.

“C’mon now, star. I ain’t even got t’ the good part yet.”

He pushed your head down into the couch cushions, and fucked you with a force that ran opposite to what you’d experienced just before on the dining room. With the same rope you’d tied him with, he tied your hands behind your back, continuing to thrust in and out of your pussy. You could faintly hear his necklace jangling against itself in his shirt, and closed your eyes to enjoy every sensation. You could taste yourself on your own panties. You could taste Abe, and his bourbon-cinnamon tainted breath. As he thrusted, you heard every grunt, moan, and groan that escaped his lips. You yourself couldn’t help but moan, your hands clenched in fists behind your back, and your mouth ajar, spilling with tattered white lace.

“Look at how tight that young little pussy is,” he said. “How’re you still that tight after fuckin’ someone as big as me this often?”

The only response you could muster was a moan, stifled by lace, as Abe continued to thrust and film. The wet slapping of his balls against your pussy, just barely grazing against your clit, caused your eyes to roll and your toes to curl. The longer he went on, the harder his thrusts became, the words from his mouth growing more intense.

“You like that big dick, don’t you, ladybird? Look at how wet this is. It’s like you can’t get enough of me.”

Your moans grew louder and more strained. He felt so good it was nearly painful; and each time he spoke, in his low, gruff voice, you only wanted him more. Despite his roughness with you, Abe’s actions spoke the same; he moaned aloud, groaning every pet name for you that he had. Babydoll. Ladybird. Sweetheart. Angel. Little Star.

“Jesus, sweet pea. Goddamn, you’re perfect. Moan nice and loud for the camera. Let everybody hear how good I make you feel.”

You lost yourself in his touch, and the sensation of him stretching your walls, so much that you hardly realized when a gush of wetness sprayed out of you, onto Abe’s shirt, and onto the couch. It trickled slowly down your thighs, and Abe pulled out to film it. He touched between your legs, first with his fingers, then with his mouth, to taste all the liquid that had squirted out of you. Once he was satisfied, filming from every angle, he untied your hands and stood up from the couch, with a firm smack on your backside. He pulled your panties from your mouth and shoved them in his pocket.

“Let’s take this someplace else, star. Somewhere special.”

You lifted your head slowly from the couch, struggling to regain your composure. Your arms shook beneath you as you sat up, and your legs quivered beneath you as you stood.

“Where to, sir?”

“D’you think we could make it outside without gettin’ caught?”

A wave of vigor and adrenaline washed over you and Abe both. He zipped and buckled his pants with fervor to cover himself, while you grabbed his bathrobe from the couch to cover up. With you both sufficiently covered, he opened the front door. He peered outside, looking for any sign of any living soul walking down the street, or peering out of a window. He saw none, and reached backward for your hand.

“Alright, bird. Follow me.”

You took his hand, and he led you around to the side of your home, where his truck was parked. It was backed in so that the front pointed towards the street, with the back facing your backyard. He led you around to the bed of the truck, picking you up to place you inside before climbing in himself. He slid back to sit with his back against his rear window shield, set the camera beside him, and pulled you into his lap. He reached his hand down his shirt to pull out his chain, and out with it came the cross he wore over his heart. He flipped it over to examine the back of it, rubbing his thumb over the engraved star.

“Look up there,” he said. “All those stars out tonight. Ain’t it pretty?”

You turned around in his lap to look at what he saw. Above the tree line of your backward were hundreds of white dots, set against a dark indigo sky. The sky was clear, without a cloud in sight, and the moon shone bright on the two of you, bathing you both in dusky moonlight.

“You know, darlin’,” he thought aloud, “I’ve been wonderin’. I like callin’ you my little star. I just can’t decide if you’re one of those stars up there, or if all those stars are just a little piece’a you.”

You smiled and stared into his eyes, in which you could just barely see the reflection of the moon. Your hands wrapped behind his neck, running through his thick, dark hair. His gray hairs shone light blue in the moonlight as your kissed, tugging his hair with your fingers. His hands wrapped around your back with a gentle squeeze, pulling you closer to his body, and deeper into the kiss. Abe pulled away from the kiss first, opening his eyes to look at the diamond star that hung over your chest. He untied the front ribbon of your babydoll top, exposing both of your breasts to the cool evening air. He cupped one breast in his hand, grazing over your nipple with his fingers, suckling on the other. As his mouth worked, you slid his blue plaid shirt off of his shoulders, exposing his plain white tee. He stopped momentarily to pull it the rest of the way off, setting it aside in his truck bed.

Before returning his focus to you, Abe leaned over to adjust the camera, using his now-removed plaid shirt to prop it up. Trailing kisses up the side of your neck, he unzipped his pants, leaving his belt buckled, and took out his cock. As he slid it in, you both moaned, closing your eyes to the sound of crickets and each other’s pleasured breaths.

You rode Abe slowly, rising and falling in his lap at your own sensual pace. He allowed you to go as slow as you pleased, letting his hands wander up your chest to caress your breasts, around your back to trail up your spine, and down to your waist to guide you gently. His eyes were transfixed on your face, and his voice was soft and nearly breathless.

“You’re so beautiful,” he moaned. “I’m a damn lucky man t’ have you.”

While you rode him, you slid one hand up his shirt to feel his stomach. It was warm to the touch, and coated in the fine hairs you’d come to love. Your hand traversed upwards still to his chest, where you grabbed hold of his cross. You flipped it on its back to look at the star, then looked up yourself at the stars above. With Abe inside of you, and his hands squeezing your hips, and his graying hair between your fingers, you stared into the stars. Each star twinkled in the sky, some bright, some barely there, and some coasting somewhere in the middle. You stared up at the moon, white and full, overtaking the sky. All of these sights, and the sound of Abe’s truck gently rocking as you rocked, the touch of his gentle hands, the taste of his lips, which reeked of carrot cake and bourbon. All of this you took in at once, riding Abe slowly, letting him feel every inch of wetness inside of you. All of this for your boss. All of this for a father. All of this for an estranged husband. All of this for a birthday.

“I love you, star.”

The words sent a jolt through your chest, but now wasn’t the time to debate them or object. You only moaned. Abe seemed to catch himself by surprise, too, as he tried to correct himself.

“I love this, I mean. What we have right now. I’ve never had a birthday like this.”

His goatee tickled your skin while he kissed up your neck. Abe’s squeeze on your hips grew tighter, and he guided your movements to be gradually faster. You slid your hands up and down his arms, feeling each mole and hair, touching each freckle, tracing the now-bulging veins in his forearms. He moaned, tilting his head up to look up at the sky, then back at you.

“I’m gettin’ close, little star,” he moaned. “Real close.”

You buried your face into his neck, breathing in his cologne and hours old aftershave. His moans turned into groans the closer he came to release, until finally, with a final few strokes, you felt his cum, warm and gushing inside of you. A vein in his neck bulged, his arms and shoulders tightened, and he continued to grind your hips against his shaft, slowly, through his orgasm. He closed his eyes for a while, squeezed shut with furrowed brows, his just barely open, letting the most intense waves pass.

After several long seconds, his cum oozing out of you, dripping back down his shaft and onto his black pants, he opened his eyes. They were the deep brown that they always were, tinted blue under the night sky. He smiled, wrapped his arms around your waist, and kissed your lips one last time. The kiss was slow and sweet, and lasted for what felt like hours. Carrot cake flavored, cologne and bourbon scented, moonlight shaded hours.

You helped Abe stop the recording and eject the tape. From his pocket, Abe pulled out a black marker. He pulled off the cap with his teeth, then wrote on the front label of the tape.

“Shooting Star.”

He stared at the label for a while, then up into the night sky, at the thousands of stars that surrounded you both.

“It’s been a long time since I seen a shootin’ star. So thank you. For showin’ me one t’night.”

“It’s your birthday. I just did what I could.”

Abe smiled and leaned in for one last kiss on your lips, then kissed your cheek. He glanced down at his watch, then, grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers between your own, still gazing up, with wide brown eyes, at the starlight above.

“It’s still my birthday for another hour or so,” he said. “I did have one more birthday wish. If you don’t mind makin’ it come true for me, star.”

You said nothing, but tilted your head and smiled to let him know you were listening.

“I’d like t’ sit in your living room. Lay next t’ you, under that big white blanket you got. Eat some more cake an’ ice cream.”

Abe smirked, tapping his fingers against his newly named tape.

“An’ watch a shootin’ star.”


End file.
